
MARSHALL SAUNDERS 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 












Princess Sukey 




Princess Sukey 

THE STORY OF A PIGEON 
AND HER HUMAN FRIENDS 


By 

MARSHALL SAUNDERS 

v „ - : \, . 


“ Despite neither cats , birds, dogs , nor any member of the animal kingdom, 
for are not all created beings little brothers of the 
earth , the air , and the sea Y" 



NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS 
CINCINNATI: JENNINGS & GRAHAM 


6 * 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies rtsceivuu 

MAY 23 1905 



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Copyright, 1905, by 
EATON & MAINS. 


I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO ONE WHO HAS SHOWN 
A KIND INTEREST IN EVERY LIVING CREATURE 
ON MY FARM — TO MY DEAR BROTHER-IN- 
LAW, CLARENCE KING MOORE, OF THE 
UNIVERSITY OF ROCHESTER 

MARSHALL SAUNDERS 

MEADOW BROOK FARM 
JANUARY 26, 1905 



LIST OF CHAPTERS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Pigeon Princess i 

II. Mrs. Blodgett’s Opinion 15 

III. Happy Times 28 

IV. The Judge’s Vow 36 

V. A Surprise for the Judge 58 

VI. In the Pigeon Loft 74 

VII. Birds of Heaven 91 

VIII. To Adopt or Not to Adopt 98 

IX. Another Surprise no 

X. The English Boy......... 124 

XI. Deceit and Forgiveness 142 

XII. The Yellow Spotted Dog 155 

XIII. Higby and the Owls 163 

XIV. A Call from Airy 177 

XV. A Drive with the Judge 1 192 

XVI. The Spotted Dog Again 203 

XVII. Titus as a Philanthropist 210 

XVIII. Airy’s Second Call on the Judge 219 

XIX. Dallas Takes a Hand at Management.. 226 

XX. The Cat Man and the Judge’s Family.. 235 

XXI. Mafferty Unfolds a Plot 248 

XXII. The Judge Gets a Shock 262 

XXIII. Mrs. Everest Begins to Explain 275 

XXIV. The Explanation Continued 286 

XXV. Visitors for the Judge 299 

XXVI. The Only Son of a Widow 308 

XXVII. Mr. Hittaker Calls on the Judge 324 

XXVIII. The Judge Reviews his Family 330 

v 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Princess Sukey. 


Frontispiece 


“ W-w-whew!” he said after a time, “isn’t she a beauty 
— a real princess ! ” Facing page 32 


/ 


“Go tell the servants that she is found,” said the Judge 
to Titus Facing page 


91 


/ 


‘ ‘ In the middle of the hall stood the grinning colored boy 
and the ugly yellow spotted dog” Facing page 204 

“Why are you dressed like a little boy?” I asked. 

Facing page 292 


VI 


PRINCESS SUKEY 


CHAPTER I 
The Pigeon Princess 

Dear little Princess Sukey sitting by the fire — 
pretty little pigeon — of what is she thinking as she 
dreamily eyes the blazing wood ? If a pigeon could 
review its past life, what she has of bird mind 
would be running back over the series of adventures 
that she had ere she established herself in this well 
ordered household. 

Has she any mentality of her own, or are all 
pigeons stupid as has been said ? Listen to her story, 
and judge for yourself. 

To begin with — she is not a common street pigeon 
like those who are looking in the window, and who 
are probably envying her the silk cushion on which 
she sits, her china bath, her lump of rock salt, and 
her box of seeds. For it is a bitterly cold day. The 
wind is blowing fiercely, the thermometer is away 
below zero, and the ground is covered with snow. 
In summer these same street pigeons seem to be 
laughing at the pigeon princess on account of the ab- 


2 


Princess Sukey 


normal life that she leads, but just now they certainly 
would change places with her. 

The princess is a Jacobin — a thoroughbred, with 
a handsome hood that nearly hides her head, a fine 
mane and chain, and her colors are red and white. 

Her parents were beauties— show birds with per- 
fect points, and they were owned by a young pigeon 
fancier of the small city of Riverport, Maine. 

The lad’s name was Charlie Brown, and he had 
a friend called Titus Sancroft, or, more familiarly, 
“Stuttering Tite,” from an unfortunate habit that 
he had formed of catching his breath at the begin- 
ning of nearly every sentence he uttered. 

Now, young Titus walked most opportunely into 
Charlie’s pigeon loft just a day after Princess Sukey 
had been hatched. 

Just before he came in the clock struck four. A 
male pigeon always helps the female in the work of 
incubation, and bringing up the young ones. About 
ten o’clock every morning the mother pigeon leaves 
her eggs, goes to get something to eat, and walks 
about the loft with the other pigeons — a pigeon 
rarely plays; even young ones are phlegmatic. As 
she comes off her nest the male pigeon goes on and 
sits there till four in the afternoon. Then the female 
returns for the night. 

Well, the young princess was a sickly pigeon. 
There had been two sickly pigeons, for usually two 
eggs are laid at a time. One had died, and the 
father Jacobin, thinking that the young Sukey was 
also going to die, took her in his beak, lifted her 
from the nest, and gently deposited her on the floor 
at the other end of the loft. 


The Pigeon Princess 


3 


There is little sentiment among birds. They be- 
lieve in the survival of the fittest, and the weak are 
calmly taken from the nest. 

The young pigeon was not desperately ill. How- 
ever, blind and naked as she was, she could not have 
survived long, away from the warmth of the nest, 
unless this boy Titus had discovered her. 

“H-h-hello, Charlie," he stuttered, “here's a squab 
out of the nest." Charlie took the bird by the legs. 

“W-w-what are you going to do?" asked Titus. 

“Strike its head against the wall." 

Titus did not approve of this. 

“Wh-why don't you put it back in the nest?" he 
asked, excitedly. 

“No good — once the old ones put it out they won't 
look at it." 

“C-c-can't you feed it?" 

“Too much trouble. I did have some birds that 
would feed young ones — two fine old feeders, but 
I sold them." 

Titus had a mercenary little soul. “A-a pity to 
throw away good money," he said, looking at the 
pigeon. “I-I should think you could worry some 
food down its throat yourself." 

“I could, but it's an awful bother. I've tried it. 
This is a sick thing anyway. It will be dead in five 
minutes. See how it's gasping." 

“B-b-bet you my jackknife it won't die," replied 
Titus. 

So they waited five minutes, and, as good fortune 
would have it, the future princess gasped them out, 
and Charlie laid her in Titus's palm. “The squab 
is yours." 


4 


Princess Sukey 


“B-b-blest if I know what to do with it,” re- 
marked Titus, turning the pigeon over in his hands. 

Charlie smiled mischievously. “I guess your 
grandfather will give you a time if he finds out.” 

“H-h-he shan’t find out,” said Titus. 

“It’s mean that you can’t have pigeons or some- 
thing,” observed Charlie. “All the fellows have. 
Why don’t you make tracks for another grand- 
father?” 

Titus grinned. His grandfather was a great trial 
to him, but it was only in one respect. In other 
ways he was a model grandfather. 

“Hope it will live,” said Charlie, generously. 
“Tuck some food down its throat — some feed one 
way, some another — and mix some sweet oil in it. 
I’ve heard that’s good when you take them from the 
parents.” 

Titus stood a minute longer; then seeing that the 
pigeon was near her end, and that Charlie was un- 
concernedly going on with his work of feeding and 
watering the other pigeons, he scampered home. 

Titus lived with his grandfather, Judge Sancroft, 
and Judge Sancroft possessed a somewhat foolish 
and provoking but most devoted old family servant 
man called Higby. 

Titus ran all about the house looking for this 
man. He was really forbidden to talk to him unless 
he was positively forced to do so. The Judge had 
commanded that Titus should only request a service 
from Higby, and thank him for one rendered. 
There was to be no conversation, for old Higby 
stammered terribly, and the Judge feared that it 
was from him Titus had caught the tiresome habit. 


The Pigeon Princess 


j 


Finally the boy found the man in the attic super- 
intending some painters. 

“S-s-see what I've got, Higby,” he said, opening 
his palms, where he was keeping the pigeon warm. 

“A s-s-squab,” said Higby, “a-a-and and an ugly 
w-w-worm of a thing it is.” 

“W-w-what shall I do with it?” asked Titus. 

“W-w-wring it's neck, young sir,” said Higby, 
who was much worried by the painters. “ ’Tis a 
s-s-sad world for m-m-man, woman, or pigeon.” 

“B-but it’s worth money,” said Titus. “It’s a 
Jacobin — the parents cost twenty dollars.” 

Higby looked at it again. Neither he nor the lad 
was much animated by sentiment in saving the life 
of a bird. Then he felt the pigeon’s crop. 

“Th-th-there ain’t nothin’ in there, Master Titus. 
You’ve got to fe-fe-feed it mighty quick.” 

“Y-you come help me,” said the boy. 

“I ca-ca-can’t leave these workmen.” 

“I-if you don’t,” replied Titus, ‘Til tell my grand- 
father that you seek me out and talk to me. Then 
he’ll discharge you.” 

Higby flew into a rage. As he choked and splut- 
tered and stammered he stepped backward. That 
was his way when wrestling for words, and when he 
at last got his words he struck one foot sharply on 
the floor. 

Young Titus, on the contrary, always stopped 
stuttering when he became deeply moved about any- 
thing, but in his excitement he had formed the 
habit of stepping forward. So if he were talking to 
Higby there was at the same time advance and 
retreat. 


6 


Princess Sukey 


The painters were nearly killing themselves laugh- 
ing, and when Higby discovered this he shuffled 
downstairs after the boy. 

Titus led the way to the kitchen. “Mrs. Blodg- 
ett, ” he called to the housekeeper, who was directing 
the maids, “please make me some warm feed for this 
pigeon.” 

The housekeeper stared at the bird. “O, law! 
what a nasty little thing!” 

By this time the future little princess was nearly 
dead, and Titus in dismay called, “Hurry up.” 

“Master Titus,” she replied, snappishly, “the girls 
are preparing dinner. You’ll have to wait.” 

“I can’t wait,” returned the boy, angrily, and he 
began to step forward. “Don’t you see the bird’s 
dying? Higby, you talk to her.” 

Titus’s eyes were flaming, and Higby, who was 
at heart a coward, and terrified of anyone in a real 
rage, subdued his own disturbed feelings, and in a 
wheedling voice asked Mrs. Blodgett for just a little 
“ro-ro-rolled oats,” with boiling water poured on. 

Mrs. Blodgett frowned, and grumbled out some- 
thing about having men and boys in the kitchen at 
mealtimes. However, she drew out her keys and 
went to the storeroom, and in a few minutes Titus 
and Higby were in a corner of the kitchen with a 
cup of soft food before them, but with nothing but 
their clumsy fingers to put it in the pigeon’s small 
beak. 

The young bird smelt and felt the food, and 
nearly wriggled out of Titus’s grasp in trying to 
get it. 

“T-t-this won’t do,” exclamied the boy, when she 


The Pigeon Princess 


7 

jabbed her beak against his hand, “w-w-we’ve got to 
have a feather or a stick.” 

Mrs. Blodgett gave them some turkey feathers 
and some toothpicks, and between them they man- 
aged to worry a little food into the pigeon’s beak. 

“You ought to h-h-have a syringe,” said Higby, 
“the old birds fe-fe-feed their young ones by putting 
their b-b-beaks crosswise in their mouths to pu-pu- 
pump the food down.” 

“I-I know, I’ve seen them,” replied Titus. “You 
just run along to the drug store and get me one.” 

Higby had to go, and by putting a rubber tube 
in the pigeon’s beak they managed to feed her pretty 
well. 

When her crop was quite round and full Titus 
called for a basket and cotton wool, and put her 
behind the kitchen stove. 

“That basket is mortally in the way,” said Mrs. 
Blodgett, fretfully; “it is just in the place where we 
put our plates to warm.” 

“B-b-blodgieblossom,” said the boy, cajolingly, 
thrusting his arm through hers, “it’s for your boy.” 

The housekeeper gave in. When young Titus 
called her “Blodgieblossom,” and said he was her 
boy, she would do anything for him. 

“Mind, don’t any of you knock that basket over,” 
she said, turning frowningly to the maids. 

Titus was running upstairs, when suddenly he 
stopped and hurried back. They all thought he had 
come to thank them for helping him, but he had not. 

“L-l-look a-here !” he said', sternly, “If I catch any 
of you prattling to grandfather that I’ve got a 
pigeon I’ll make it hot for you.” 


8 


Princess Sukey 


They all grinned at each other. The Judge was 
a good man, but he was rather severe with his grand- 
son when he deceived him. 

The Judge did not find out. Pie never entered the 
kitchen, and the young pigeon grew and thrived, but 
not behind the stove on the plate-warmer, for Titus, 
finding that her little body was almost like a furnace 
itself, appropriated a corner of one of the big kitchen 
tables for her basket. 

Young Titus and old Higby fed her several times 
a day. One had to hold her, while the other pushed 
the food down her throat, and cross enough the old 
servant man was when Titus would call out, “T-t-the 
goose hangs high.” 

Titus did not dare to say, “It is feeding time for 
the pigeon, Higby,” for the Judge might have heard, 
and Titus feared that he would be exceedingly an- 
noyed if he found out that a bird was being kept 
in his house. 

It was really curious that such a dislike for the 
lower creation should have been imputed to a really 
benevolent and kind-hearted man like Judge Ban- 
croft. True, he did not care particularly for ani- 
mals. He had been brought up in a city, and he 
had never had any animals about him but horses 
and cows. He was not actively fond of them, but 
he always saw that they were well cared for. None 
of his children had been fond of animals. Certainly 
he was not the kind of man to have said, “No,” if 
any of his young sons or daughters had come to him 
years ago and said, “Father, I want a dog or a 
cat.” 

However, his own children were all dead, and the 


The Pigeon Princess 


9 


opinion had strengthened with years that the Judge 
did not care for dumb creatures. Titus did not know 
that his grandfather would have listened with dis- 
may to anyone who said to him, “Sir, you have a 
young grandson under your roof who is pining for 
pets such as other boys have, and he is afraid to 
ask you for them.” 

The Judge was unmistakably a very good man. 
His white head, large, handsome face, and portly 
frame bore the marks of good temper, sound judg- 
ment, and eminent respectability. It was rather a 
wonder that he had not made himself known as a 
philanthropist. However, he had in early life been 
devoted to his profession, then he had had much 
trouble and bereavement, and had traveled exten- 
sively, and then his health had partly broken down, 
and he had resigned his judgeship, given up most of 
the active duties of life, and settled down to a 
sedentary old age. 

But old age did not come. Renewed health did 
come, and at the time when our story opens the 
somewhat bewildered Judge found himself in the 
position of a man who sees the map of his life turned 
upside down in his hands. 

He really had not enough to do. He had made 
enough money to live on, really more than enough, 
but he began to think seriously of opening that long- 
closed law office. He was only restrained by a 
question of dignity. He had been so long on the 
bench that he would hate to come down to office 
work again — and yet he could not rust out. He 
sighed sometimes as he thought of his future — 
sighed, not knowing what responsibilities Provi- 


10 


Princess Sukey 


dence was preparing for him. Probably if he could 
have foreseen he would have sighed more heavily. 
However, the responsibilities brought also their 
alleviations with them. 

Young Titus was not at all like his grandfather 
in appearance. The Judge was a large, rotund, 
handsome man, always carefully, even exquisitely, 
dressed. Titus was slim and dark, loose-jointed 
and always awry. His collar was shady, his clothes 
tumbled. He was not in one single outward respect 
like the dignified white-haired man who sat opposite 
him at the table. But there was the mysterious tie 
of blood between them. Apparently the elderly man 
and the boy were not at all alike, but there were 
points of resemblance. They both felt them, and in 
their way were devoted to each other. 

The Judge was a much-afflicted man. Wife, sons, 
daughters, all were gone, but this one lad, and he 
often looked at him wistfully. If anything should 
happen to this sole grandchild the good old name 
of Sancroft would die out. 

A day came when it looked as if the family name 
would go. A terrible thing happened to young 
Titus, and his grandfather’s house was wrapped in 
gloom. The lad’s unfortunate habit of stuttering 
was at the root of the trouble. 

The Judge knew perfectly well that any physical 
or mental peculiarity about a boy subjects him to an 
intermittent martyrdom from his fellow boys, who 
with respect to teasing are part savages. Therefore 
he had a private teacher who wrestled with Titus 
on the subject of stuttering for several hours a week. 
He also was willing that Titus should have all his 


The Pigeon Princess 


ii 


lessons at home, but this the boy would not agree 
to, and the Judge respected him for it. 

Titus always went down the street with his eyes 
rolling about him. It was such an irresistible 
temptation to the boys to imitate him that usually 
the air was vocal with mocking birds. 

Fortunately, Titus was exceedingly wiry, and 
utterly fearless. Otherwise he would certainly have 
been cowed or injured long before our story begins. 

He always marched out of school with the other 
boys, never waited to walk home in the shadow of 
a teacher, and if a call of derision reached him and 
he could locate the boy, if he had time, he took off 
his coat, intrusted it to a friend, and rushed into the 
fray. The boys in his set never carried books in 
the street. They had duplicate copies at home. 

On one particular day, which turned out to be the 
disastrous day for poor Titus, he had got halfway 
home with, strange to say, not a single fight. 

It was not a school day but a holiday, and he had 
been downtown with a companion. Suddenly, as 
he strolled along beside him, a teasing voice rang 
out: 

Stuttering Tite, stuttering Tite, 

O, he is a daisy! 

Give him time and give him words, 

And he’ll make you crazy. 

“ An S and an S, and a T and a T, 

And a stam and a stutter, and don’t you see — ” 

The boy got no further. His song was so mali- 
cious, his manner so exquisitely provoking, that 
young Titus, without waiting for a single prelim- 
inary, flew upon him like a whirlwind. 


12 


Princess Sukey 


Provoker and the provoked one rolled over and 
over in the middle of the street. It was a rainy, 
muddy morning in the late summer, and in their 
dark suits and bedaubed condition they soon had 
very much the appearance of two dogs. 

So thought a young man who was driving a fast 
horse and talking to a lively young girl by his side. 
One careless glance he gave the supposed dogs; 
then, thinking that they would get out of the way, 
he scarcely took pains to avoid them. 

Needless to say, the dogs made no effort to avoid 
him. On the contrary, they rolled right in his path. 
One terrified shriek he heard from Titus’s opponent, 
then there was silence. 

The horrified young man sprang from his buggy. 
One boy was not hurt, he was only frightened. The 
other lay with his dark young face turned up to the 
sky. There was blood on his hands and his fore- 
head. The horse’s hoofs had struck him, and the 
wheels of the buggy had gone over his legs. 

The young man did not lose his head. He asked 
the uninjured lad for Titus’s name and address, he 
put him in the buggy, and requesting a bystander 
to notify the Judge he drove rapidly to a hospital, 
his girl friend tenderly holding Titus’s injured head. 

The succession of troubles that Judge Sancroft had 
had during his life had all been of a deliberate kind. 
His wife and children had all had long illnesses, 
and much suffering, so much so that death had 
come as a welcome release. He did not remember 
anything just as sudden as this, and his chastened 
and subdued heart died within him. He feared 
that he was going to lose his last treasure. 


The Pigeon Princess 


13 

He happened to be in his club when the news 
came to him, and taking a carriage he drove at once 
to the hospital. 

What a contrast — from the quiet luxurious rooms 
of the club, from the peaceful reading or talking 
men, to this abode of pain and distress. 

The Judge reverently bared his head as he entered 
the door. “God pity them!” he murmured, as he 
walked through the long halls and corridors to the 
private room where his young grandson had been 
carried. 

There was a white-capped nurse in the room. 
The Judge bowed courteously to her, then he turned 
to the bed. 

Was that Titus — was that his lively, mischievous 
grandson — that pale, quiet lad with the bandaged 
head? 

The Judge stretched out both hands and laid 
them on the lad’s wrists. 

“My boy,” he said, piteously, “my boy, don’t you 
know me?” 

“He is quite unconscious, sir,” said the nurse. 

“Will he die?” asked the Judge. 

“Sir,” she said, protestingly, “the operation has 
not taken place — only an examination.” 

The Judge sat down by the bed. Bitter, rebellious 
thoughts, resigned thoughts, protesting thoughts, 
chased each other through his mind. 

At last he got up and went to the back of the 
room. “God’s will be done,” he said, with a great 
sigh. 

The nurse gazed surreptitiously at him. She was 
very young, and to her the Judge in his vigorous 


14 


Princess Sukey 


late middle age, and with his white head, appeared 
to be an old man. 

“And a good one/’ she said to herself. Then she 
listened. 

The Judge was also listening. His senses were 
unnaturally acute. Before her he heard the soft 
footfalls and the whispering at the door. The hos- 
pital attendants had come to take his boy to the 
operating room. 

“I shall wait here, ,, he said, and with a piteous 
face he watched the lifting and taking away of the 
quiet little body. But when the door closed he went 
on his knees by the bed. 

“O, Lord, spare my boy — take my life if neces- 
sary, but spare his. I am getting old, but he is 
young. Spare him, spare him, dear Lord !” 


CHAPTER II 
Mrs. Blodgett's Opinion 

What was becoming of the poor princess all this 
time, for that station in life had been assigned her 
as soon as the delighted Titus noted her aristocratic 
manners. 

She was now a lively bird of three weeks of age, 
and though, according to well bred pigeon ways, 
she had not yet left her nest she was always looking 
about, and quite well aware of what took place 
around her. 

The accident to young Titus had occurred about 
noon, when he was on his way home for lunch. It 
was now seven o’clock in the evening, and Princess 
Sukey was inquiringly raising her pretty hooded 
head from her basket to stare about her. 

Higby and the maids were serving the dinner. 
Mrs. Blodgett had had a dreadful fit of hysterics 
when she heard what had happened to the boy of 
the household, and had disappeared, no one knew 
where. 

Higby was whispering the news. The Judge had 
stayed at the hospital till dinner time. The doctors 
said that there was just a bare chance of Master 
Titus’s life, but they were afraid of his reason. 
There had been injury to the brain. 

“It’s powerful sa-sa-sad to see the old man,” he 
went on. 


i6 


Princess Sukey 


Higby was much older than the Judge, but still 
he always called him “the old man.” 

“He sits and ea-ea-eats,” he stammered. 

“Surely,” said the young rosy-faced cook, “he 
aint eatin’ with the boy ’most dyin’.” 

“Did I s-s-say he was?” retorted Higby. “He’s 
p-p-playin’ with his food just like a ca-ca-cat with 
a mouse, only he ain’t goin’ to e-e-eat it.” 

“ He feels bad inside,” said the parlor maid sym- 
pathetically. “I know the feelin’ — kind of sick 
like. I had it when I lost my little brother. Not a 
bite of food passed my lips for two days. What’s 
the matter with that pigeon?” 

The unfortunate little princess was nearly starved. 
Her crop was quite empty, and she was experiencing 
some of the torment that the healthy young of any 
kind suffer from acute hunger. Titus always fed 
her at noon, and it was now night. Imperiously 
agitating her long red and white wings, she made 
the whistling noise which a young pigeon strives 
to attract the attention of its parents. 

“Hush, gor-gor-gormandizer,” said Higby, turn- 
ing fiercely on her. “Is this a time for st-st-stuffing 
when y-young master is nearly dead?” 

The pigeon understood nothing of what he said 
about the boy, but she clearly saw that no food 
would be forthcoming now, so she uttered a com- 
plaining “Wee! wee!” and squatted down in her 
basket. 

As she did so the kitchen door leading into the 
back hall was thrown violently open and Mrs. 
Blodgett walked in. 

She was a short, stout, middle-aged woman, with 


Mrs. Blodgett’s Opinion 


17 

red cheeks and a skin that looked as if it were too 
tight for her fat body. Her clothes, too, were tight, 
giving her generally an uncomfortable appearance. 
The expression of her face was often fretful. 
However, she was on the whole a good sort of 
woman. 

Just now she was greatly excited. She untied 
her bonnet strings, flung them back, and said in a 
loud voice, ‘Tve seen him.” 

“S-s-seen who?” asked Higby, stopping short 
with a tray in his hands. 

“The boy. Where’s the Judge?” 

“Master T-t-titus!” exclaimed Higby, walking 
backward and striking his foot. 

“Yes — hush — I’ll tell you later. Give me that 
pigeon.” 

Before anyone could reach the princess Mrs. 
Blodgett had snatched the basket from one of the 
kitchen tables, and was walking toward the stairway 
leading to the upper part of the house. 

Suddenly she turned back. “Where’s the Judge ?” 

Higby stared at her. Then he said, “I-i-in his 
study — he ordered co-co-coffee there. You’re not 
going to s-s-see him ?” 

“Why aint I?” she asked, irritably. “Why aint 
I?” 

“I d-d-don’t know,” stammered Higby. “Only 
you don’t generally call on him this time of day.” 

“Lead the way,” she said, grandly. “Step out.” 

Higby stumbled up the steps before her, the dishes 
rattling as he went. When he opened the study 
door Mrs. Blodgett walked in after him. 

The Judge was standing before the fireplace in 


1 8 Princess Sukey 

a melancholy attitude, with his hands behind his 
back. 

He looked at Mrs. Blodgett as she came in, but 
did not seem surprised. His servants often came to 
him with their troubles. 

“Well, Mrs. Blodgett,” he said, patiently, when 
Higby poured out his cup of coffee and handed it 
to him. 

“Fve somewhat to say to you, sir,” she replied, 
with a toss of her head. 

The Judge looked at Higby, who went into the 
hall, closing the door reluctantly behind him. 

Mrs. Blodgett was struggling with a variety of 
emotions. At last she burst out with a remark, “Fve 
seen the boy, sir!” 

“Have you?” said the Judge, eagerly, and turn- 
ing he put his coffee cup on the mantelpiece, as if 
glad of an excuse to be rid of it. 

“Yes, sir, Fve seen the boy, and he spoke to me.” 

“He spoke!” exclaimed the Judge, “but, Mrs. 
Blodgett, what does this mean? No one was to be 
admitted.” 

Mrs. Blodgett smiled. She knew that the Judge 
was too just to condemn her without a hearing. 

“It was this way, sir,” she said, gently putting 
the pigeon’s basket down on the table, and taking a 
handkerchief from her pocket to mop her flushed 
face. “It was this way,” and as she spoke she felt 
herself getting calm. There was a peaceful, judicial 
atmosphere in the Judge’s study, and about the man 
himself there was something genial and soothing. 
“When I heard of that boy’s head run over and 
smashed, the heart stood still in my body. Now, if 


Mrs. Blodgett’s Opinion 


19 


it had been you, sir, or me, or Higby — but that only 
bit of young life about the house — it did seem too 
awful. ‘I’m goin’ to see him,’ said I. Tm goin’ to 
see him afore he dies.’ Bells were ringin’ in my ears, 
an’ my head was in a kind of fog like a ship at sea, 
but I crawled out to the street, I walked to the hos- 
pital. Many’s the hour I paced up and down waitin’ 
for you to come out, for I knew you’d stop me if 
you saw me. When you was out of sight I hurried 
to the door — I rung the bell.” 

The Judge drew a long breath, and leaned his 
head slightly forward in the intensity of his in- 
terest. 

“ ‘Could I see the bed where Master Titus lay?’ 
I asked,” continued Mrs. Blodgett. “No, I couldn’t. 
I was prepared for that. But can you stop a woman 
when she makes up her mind? No, sir. I sat in the 
waitin’ room an’ I cried for a solid hour, and then 
they said I might look in the room for one minute, 
if I’d promise not to speak above my breath. 

“I promised, and I meant to keep it, but I didn’t. 
When I walked into that quiet room, when I looked 
at him lyin’ so still with them white cloths on his 
black head, then, may heaven forgive me, sir, I let 
a screech of ‘Master Titus, me darlin’ !’ 

“He opened them impish eyes, sir, he give me a 
glance. ‘Blodgieblossom,’ says he, ‘feed the pigeon, 
an’ tell grandfather.’ 

“He spoke, an’ he went to sleep again, an’ I was 
hustled out into the hall, an’ my ! didn’t them nurses 
give me a tongue-lashin’ ! But I had heard my boy 
speak, sir ; his mind were there.” 

The Judge’s face was disturbed and bewildered. 


20 


Princess Sukey 


Mrs. Blodgett was hurrying on, though she kept 
a keen eye on him. 

“So, sir, I says to myself, ‘Go right home, tell the 
Judge what the boy says. Tell him that if the Lord 
in his mercy spared an innocent bird when it was 
tumbled out of its nest, maybe he will spare a help- 
less boy/ ” 

The Judge's face was radiant. “Then there is a 
pigeon ?" 

“Indeed there be, sir," she said, pulling at the 
princess, who, perceiving herself in a new environ- 
ment, had crouched down in her basket. “Your 
young grandson's pet pigeon, hid for fear of you — 
O, sir, 'tis sad to see him cravin' dogs an’ cats, an’ 
havin’ only this senseless fowl!" 

This was an unkind slap at the princess, who, how- 
ever, took it good-naturedly, but the Judge looked 
sharply at Mrs. Blodgett. 

“Sir," she said, in an earnest voice, “I've been 
thinkin’ of the many years I've served you. You’ve 
been a good, kind master to me, bearin' with my 
faults an' my temper, an', sir, when I heard of the 
boy's mishap I blamed myself for somethin' I've 
often thought of doin', but have never done." 

The Judge made no remark, but his round, full, 
honest eyes were bent on her intently as she went 
on. 

“You couldn't get me to leave your employ, sir, 
not unless you chased me out. There aint a servant 
ever comes in this house that leaves on account of 
you. It's me, or Higby. An', sir, likin' an' honorin' 
you, I can’t help takin' an interest in your grandson. 
There's a soft spot in him, spite of his provokin' 


Mrs. Blodgett’s Opinion 21 

ways, an’ many’s the time I’ve shed a tear over his 
motherless head. I, bein’ as it were the only woman 
in the house — them senseless, gigglin’ girls, an’ you 
an’ that poor foolish creature Higby, not countin’. 
An’ takin’ an interest, I’ve often thought that boys 
bein’ naturally fond of live stock, it’s a pity you don’t 
let Master Titus have some to potter over. If he had 
he’d hurry home from school like Charlie Brown, 
an’ not spend so much time in loiterin’ around the 
streets an’ pickin’ up quarrels.” 

The Judge contracted his eyebrows. 

“Sir,” said the woman, solemnly, “if I’d come to 
you long ago an’ said, ‘Your young grandson just 
craves the pets the other boys have,’ you’d have got 
him some.” 

“Mrs. Blodgett,” said the Judge, kindly, “let the 
past alone.” 

“But, sir, you’d have done it,” she said, tearfully. 
“You’re that kind of a man. Young Master Titus 
has always hid that set of feelin’s from you. He 
pretended he didn’t want a pony or a dog. He wanted 
to please you. An’, sir, the fear of the extra clutter 
of work was what kep’ my mouth shut. Says I, 
‘If he has rabbits and fowls I’ll have more work to 
do.’ An’ when I heard of what happened this holi- 
day mornin’, when there was no school to take him 
out, an’ when he naterally would ’a’ been with pets 
if he had had ’em, I said, ‘The Lord has punished 
me ! 

She was sobbing bitterly now, and the Judge felt 
his own eyes growing moist. 

“Mrs. Blodgett,” he said, slowly, “we all make 
mistakes. With shame and contrition I acknowl- 


22 


Princess Sukey 


edge that my life has been full of them. But tears 
do not blot out errors. Turn your back on past 
faults, and go forward in the new path you have 
marked out. Do not waste strength in lamentations. 
I see that I have done wrong not to find out a natu- 
ral, wholesome instinct in my grandson. If the Lord 
spares him we shall see a different order of things. 
Let us say we have done wrong — we will do better 
in future.” 

The woman looked up in a kind of awe. She was 
only of medium height. The Judge stood far above 
her. He had straightened himself as if to take new 
courage. His tall form seemed taller, his eyes were 
fixed on vacancy. And this grand, good man, with- 
out forgetting or laying aside his dignity, had before 
her, a humble servant, clothed himself with humility. 
He had done wrong, he said. 

“Sir,” she replied, with her woman’s mind rapidly 
darting to a new subject, “I’ve heard say that once 
the biggest lawyer, the chief of all the lawyers in 
the Union — ” 

She hesitated, and bringing back his gaze to her 
the Judge said, kindly, “The chief justice of the 
Supreme Court?” 

“Yes, sir, Tve heard say that he got stuck, and he 
asked your opinion. Is that so ?” 

“Not exactly, Mrs. Blodgett,” he said, smiling 
slightly and shaking his head, “not exactly, but — ” 

He looked at a clock on the wall. He was in trou- 
ble, and wished to be alone, but, like the courteous 
gentleman he was, did not care to dismiss her. 

However, she understood him. “I ask your par- 
don, sir,” she said, humbly, “for takin’ up so much 


Mrs. Blodgett’s Opinion 23 

of your valuable time, but I was in sore straits about 
this pigeon.” 

“Ah! that is the bird, is it?” asked the Judge, 
stepping forward. 

The princess rose up in her beauty. That kind 
face leaning over her meant food, and shaking her 
wings she uttered a pitiful “Wee! wee!” 

Mrs. Blodgett was anxiously watching the Judge. 

“I take it, sir, as how the lad is thinkin’ of it in 
his deliriumtries. He wants you to know about it, 
an’ have it looked after. The unthinkin’ creature 
has been brought up near the kitchen range, but now 
that precious lamb is worryin’ about it I don’t dare 
to leave it there. Suppose the girls should spill 
gravy on it !” 

All this talk was very fine, but in the meantime 
the princess was dying of hunger, so in her distress 
she did what she had never done before. Leaning 
over the edge of her basket, she raised one coral 
claw, held on, scrambled, then hopped out, and 
trotted over the writing table toward the Judge. 

“She’s hungry, sir,” said Mrs. Blodgett. “If you 
like, sir. I’ll bring her food here.” 

The Judge was looking at Sukey with a most 
peculiar expression. He knew nothing about birds. 
How many things he had dipped into apart from 
his profession, but never once had he ever felt the 
slightest curiosity with regard to the lower creation. 
Birds and animals existed, but he did not care to 
know anything about them. Now, as he looked at 
the pigeon in the light of his grandson’s interest, a 
series of thoughts flashed into his mind. The crea- 
ture had the breath of life in its nostrils just as he 


24 


Princess Sukey 


had, it was hungry, it could make its wants known. 
How many other points of resemblance to human 
beings had it? 

“Why is it doing that?” he asked, when the pretty 
hooded head was thrust into his hand, and the pink 
beak tapped his fingers. 

“It's food, sir, she’s after. Shall I ring for Higby 
to bring some?” 

The Judge was just about to say, “Take it away,” 
when he reflected that it was Titus’s bird, and 
stretching out a hand he rang the bell by the fire- 
place. 

Higby came hurrying into the room with a precip- 
itation that told he had not been far away. 

“Pigeon food, Higby,” said Mrs. Blodgett, grand- 
ly; “some warm water to drink, and all Master 
Titus’s syringes and things for feedin’ the fowl.” 

Higby disappeared at the wave of her hand, and 
presently came back with a box full of things. 

“Here,” said Mrs. Blodgett, clearing a place on 
the Judge’s writing table, “here.” 

Higby put down the things, then he stared at her. 

“Take the pigeon,” she said, “hold it in your 
hands. I’ll fix the food.” 

Higby, in surprise, did as she told him, and the 
Judge, silently standing beside them, watched with 
interest. 

“Let’s see,” said Mrs. Blodgett, turning over the 
things in the box, “there’s nothin’ mixed. We’ll give 
her millet seed, sand, scraped cuttlefish, and soaked 
bread. I’ll mix it,” and, pouring the various in- 
gredients in a cup, she stirred them as briskly as if 
she were making a pudding. 


Mrs. Blodgett’s Opinion 25 

Higby was amazed. He did not suppose that 
Mrs. Blodgett knew anything about the pigeon, but 
she was pretty shrewd, and had always kept one eye 
on him and the boy as they took care of the princess. 

“No, I don’t want that syringe,” she said, pushing 
it away when Higby offered it to her. “To my 
mind, this bird is too big for soft food. I’ll make 
it pills,” and she rolled the bread and seed together. 
“Now for a feedin’ stick,” she said, looking around. 
“I can’t push the food down that small throat with 
my fingers.” 

Turning her head to and fro, she espied a slender 
silver penholder on the writing table. Catching it 
up, she tore a strip from her handkerchief, wound 
it round the tapering end of the penholder, and 
pushed the pill into the princess’s beak. 

“That pill sticks,” she said; briskly; “I’ll dip the 
next in water.” 

Higby looked at the Judge as if to say, “Isn’t she 
a wonderful woman,” and the Judge in a quiet way 
seemed to return the glance and say, “She is !” 

The poor little princess was delighted to get some 
food. She flapped her wings, which had now grown 
quite large, until she embraced Mrs. Blodgett’s hand 
with them. She loved to feel the food slipping down 
her throat, and how comfortable was her crop when 
at last it was quite full, and Mrs. Blodgett was 
giving her sips of water from a coffee spoon. 

The princess had learned to drink in that way, 
though it was very hard for her, as a pigeon, un- 
like most other birds, keeps its head down while 
drinking. 

After Mrs. Blodgett had finished feeding the 


26 


Princess Sukey 


princess she carefully wiped her beak, and put her 
back in the basket. 

Then in a somewhat hesitating and embarrassed 
manner she cleaned up some water drops from the 
table, and cast scrutinizing glances at the Judge 
from under her eyelids. 

He did not see her. His mind was wandering. 
His body was in the room, but his thoughts were at 
the hospital with his cruelly injured grandson. 

Mrs. Blodgett waved Higby from the room. 
Then, soberly depositing the basket on a corner of 
the hearth rug, she too slipped out. 

The princess lay quietly in her basket, just keeping 
one eye on the Judge. She was a discreet young 
pigeon, but then all pigeons are discreet. They are 
hatched with serious dispositions. Play rarely enters 
into their thoughts. They want to work, to eat, and 
not to be taken from their homes, for, next to cats, 
pigeons love their own locality. 

The Judge never looked at the princess, and after 
standing up to clean and arrange her feathers, the 
last thing a well bred pigeon does at night, she went 
to sleep. 

The poor Judge sank into an easy-chair. Hour 
after hour he sat buried there, buried in sorrow. At 
midnight he got up and went to the telephone on a 
desk by the window. 

“Give me the City Hospital,” he said, and then 
he went on : “Judge Sancroft is speaking. How is 
my grandson ?” 

He groaned when he received the message : “Boy 
remains the same — condition unchanged.” Then he 
went back to his easy-chair. 


Mrs. Blodgett’s Opinion 27 

At intervals all through the night he went from 
his chair to the telephone, and back again. 

His face would light up when he approached the 
desk. Then as the too familiar reply came back it 
would fall, his head would sink on his breast, his 
shoulders would droop, and with the step of an old 
and weary man he would turn away. 

Toward morning, when he painfully dragged him- 
self to the desk, his face did not light up. He was 
giving up hope. However, it did light up, and with 
an unearthly radiance too, when the answer this time 
came to him : “Boy better — has regained conscious- 
ness, and is asking for you. Come at once.” 

The Judge sprang up like a boy. He raised his 
two hands to heaven, “God be praised — if the boy 
lives, a double contribution to the poor — another boy 
to share his life — an end to my selfishness — if he 
lives — if he lives,” and burying his face in his hands 
the dear old Judge sobbed like a baby. 


CHAPTER III 
Happy Times 

Ah! that was the beginning of happy times for 
the princess. 

“Grandfather !” said Titus, weakly, “I have been 
acting a lie, but don’t punish the bird.” That was 
one of the first sentences he uttered. 

“Hush, hush!” said the Judge, soothingly. 
“Hush, my boy, your pigeon is in my study. Go 
to sleep — there is nothing to worry about.” 

Then he sat and looked blissfully and curiously 
at the tired, closed eyes. What fancy was this, or, 
to go deeper, what sympathy, what affinity was it 
that drew the first thought of an almost mortally 
wounded boy to a member of the bird world ? That 
pigeon was more to him than anything else, appar- 
ently. 

“Doctor,” he said in a low voice, getting up and 
going over to the white-haired superintendent of 
the hospital who happened to be at the other end 
of the room, “are all lads fond of animals?” 

“Almost all healthy, normal ones are, according 
to my observation,” replied the doctor. 

“What is the philosophy of it?” 

“I don’t know,” said the man, frankly. “I can 
remember my own passion for animals when I was 
young, but I have outgrown it. A little girl loves 
her doll, a boy his dog. The woman casts aside her 
doll for her daughter — ” 


Happy Times 


29 

“And the boy, or the man, has his sons,” whis- 
pered the Judge. 

The doctor nodded. “The young of any kind of 
creature is interested in the young of any other. 
Sometimes they keep the interest to maturity, some- 
times they don’t.” 

“I can understand a boy’s interest in a dog,” 
murmured the Judge, “but a pigeon — ” 

“Is that lad attached to a pigeon?” inquired the 
doctor, with a sharp look at the bed. 

“Yes, very much so.” 

“And is inquiring about it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then take good care of it,” said the doctor, 
“and if it dies don’t let him know.” 

The Judge nodded, and went back to the bed. 

The doctor’s advice was repeated at home in the 
big stone house. 

“Didn’t I tell you so!” exclaimed Mrs. Blodgett 
in huge delight, “didn’t I tell you so!” and she 
immediately went downtown and bought a new bas- 
ket for the princess, who fell into a most unaristo- 
cratic rage when she was put into it. 

“Pigeons is like ca-ca-cats,” remarked Higby, who 
was watching Mrs. Blodgett induct the princess into 
her new home. “They h-h-hate changes.” 

“But, darlin’ princess, look at the white ribbons,” 
said Mrs. Blodgett, cajolingly, “an’ the pretty Ger- 
man straw. Why, it’s a lovely basket.” 

“Rookety cahoo! rookety cahoo!” said the prin- 
cess, stepping high and wrathfully shaking her hood. 

“Rookety cahoo ! or no rookety cahoo !” said Mrs. 
Blodgett, decidedly, “you’ve got to have it. No dirty 


30 


Princess Sukey 


old baskets in the Judge's study. You've got to be 
kept as clean as clean. Higby, you clear up that 
litter of straw. She aint goin’ to sit on it any more. 
I’ve got a roll of scrim to make her cushions. She 
drags the straw about with her claws all over the 
carpet — and we aint goin’ to feed her in here any 
more. She drops seeds. We’ll take her in the pan- 
try. I don’t want the Judge to turn her out of his 
room. If anything happened to her anywhere else 
we’d be blamed.” 

“The Judge don’t take n-n-no notice of her,” 
grumbled Higby. 

“Don’t he — that’s all you know. I see him lookin’ 
at her, an’ weighin’ her actions, an' sizin' her up. 
I'll bet you he never knew so much about pigeons 
afore.” 

It was true that the Judge was observing Princess 
Sukey. He was obliged to do so, for as soon as 
Titus was allowed to talk he seemed bewitched to 
get on to the subject of his pigeon. How did she 
look, had she grown much — there were a few little 
feathers under her wings that had not started — had 
they appeared yet? and the Judge was obliged to 
answer all his questions, and if his observations of 
the pigeon had not been sufficiently narrow he had 
to promise to make more. 

The days passed by. Young Titus went steadily 
forward. He never lost a step. The hospital au- 
thorities declared that his recuperative powers were 
marvelous, and the Judge, who had painfully feared 
some hereditary weakness, silently bowed his head 
and gave thanks. 

One day Mrs. Blodgett went into the Judge's 


Happy Times 


3i 

study, which was a beautiful room looking south, 
and having large windows opening on a balcony. 
She was in search of the princess, and the pigeon, 
seeing her coming, hurried somewhat apprehensively 
out to this balcony. She had been out of bounds, 
and Mrs. Blodgett owned a little switch which she 
kept hidden behind one of the bookcases. 

The princess was only allowed to sit or stand in 
her basket, which stood on a square of oilcloth by 
the fireplace, to walk directly to the balcony, or 
directly back. She must not linger in corners of 
the room, or fly up on the bookcases, the tables, or 
the desk. 

Just now she had been loitering under one of the 
tables, picking at the flowers in the carpet ; therefore, 
seeing Mrs. Blodgett, she took to the balcony. 

Mrs. Blodgett laughed good-humoredly, “I am 
not going to whip you to-day. I am ordered to 
take you to the hospital to see your young master, 
and mind you are a good bird.” 

The princess submitted to being caught and put 
in her basket. Mrs. Blodgett tied a piece of stout 
paper firmly over her, then putting the basket on her 
arm she went downstairs and out of doors to the 
street, where the coachman Roblee was awaiting 
her with the Judge’s carriage. 

The rubber-tired wheels moved softly over the 
asphalt pavement, but the princess liked neither the 
confinement nor the motion, and she was a fright- 
ened-looking bird when she reached the hospital. 

Titus did not say much, but his black eyes spar- 
kled when Mrs. Blodgett put the basket down on his 
bed. 


32 


Princess Sukey 


“W-w-whew !” he said after a time, “isn’t she a 
beauty — a real princess!” 

Sukey cared nothing for his admiration. She was 
in a strange place, and raising her beautiful hooded 
head she gazed apprehensively and miserably about 
her. 

Not one sound would she utter, and when Titus 
tried to caress her she would slip her soft back from 
under his hand and trot toward Mrs. Blodgett. 

“S-s-she has forgotten me,” said the boy, with a 
chagrined air. 

“Don’t you believe it, Master Titus,” replied Mrs. 
Blodgett, consolingly. “She always do act that way 
when you takes her in a strange place.” 

However, she had forgotten Titus, or she had 
transferred her affections to others. That was con- 
firmed when the boy returned home a few weeks 
later. 

His grandfather had insisted upon his staying in 
the hospital until he was quite well, but everything 
comes to him who waits, and at last the day arrived 
when Titus’s belongings were packed. He himself 
limped out of his room, and down the long halls and 
staircases, and entered the carriage waiting for 
him. 

A nurse went with him, for his grandfather was 
confined at home with a slight cold. 

When the carriage drove up to the door Titus 
hobbled up the steps and greeted the servants, who 
were all waiting for him. 

“H-h-how do you do, everybody?” he called out, 
cheerily, “H-h-here I am as good as new, except a 
scar on my forehead, and one foot a little bit crooked. 



“ W-w-whew!” he said after a time, “isn’t she a beauty 
— a real princess!” 




Happy Times 


33 

W-where’s grandfather?” and he limped upstairs to 
the Judge’s study. 

He was not a demonstrative boy, but on this day 
he gave his grandfather a bearish hug; then, as if 
he were ashamed of so much expansion, he turned 
on his heel and said, “Where’s the pigeon ?” 

His grandfather smiled. “There she is.” 

Titus looked around. The princess’s back was 
toward him; she was very busy about something, 
he could not tell what. 

He stepped forward and recognized an enormous 
pincushion, the property of Mrs. Blodgett. It was 
stuck full of large, round-headed pins, and the 
pigeon was amusing herself by pulling out these pins 
and throwing them on her square of oilcloth. 

“W-w-what is she doing that for?” asked the boy, 
in amazement. 

“To kill time, I suppose,” replied his grandfather. 
“It is my proud privilege to pick up the pins and 
stick them in the cushion when she has drawn them 
all out.” 

“W-w-well, I never !” exclaimed Titus, with open 
mouth. “I never saw a pigeon play before.” Then 
he said, “Sukey!” 

The pigeon turned round. 

“P-p-pretty bird,” he went on. 

“O, rookety cahoo !” she said, irritably, and as he 
continued to pet her she walked up and down the 
oilcloth, shaking her head and setting her hood quiv- 
ering. 

There was a lovely greenish sheen on the red neck 
feathers, and Titus exclaimed admiringly, “Y-you 
beauty !” 


34 


Princess Sukey 


Sukeyina rage uttered a series of choking “Rook- 
ety cahoos!” then she flew on the Judge's shoulder. 

Titus was awestruck. “Do you let her do that ?” 
he asked. 

“I can’t help it,” said the Judge, sheepishly trying 
to drive her away. 

She resisted him, and rapidly turning would give 
Titus a wrathful glance, and would then peck lov- 
ingly at the Judge’s ear. 

“I’ve spoiled her,” said the Judge, weakly. 

Titus sank into a chair. 

“Here take her,” said his grandfather, reaching 
up both hands, seizing the bird bodily, and deposit- 
ing her on his grandson’s knee. 

The boy held her, and gently stroked her head. 
Struggling furiously, she caught hold of his fingers, 
bit them sharply until he released her, when she flew 
to the Judge’s knee, and seemed to be telling him a 
long story of insult and injury. 

The Judge could not help laughing, and finally 
Titus laughed too. Then he said, “W-w-well, I’ve 
lost my pigeon.” 

“Never mind,” said his grandfather, “you shall 
have some others for yourself. I spoke to a car- 
penter the other day about making a loft up at the 
stable for you.” 

Titus gave his grandfather a queer look. Then 
after a long silence he said, strangely, “Y-you don’t 
mean it?” 

“But I do.” 

The boy was overcome, and turning round in his 
chair he laid his head on his arm. To have pigeons 
— to have a loft like Charlie Brown’s — to see his 


Happy Times 35 

very own birds strutting about in it, to buy and sell 
and bargain in the way so dear to boyish hearts. 

“Grandfather,” he said after a time, and now he 
was so much moved that he did not stutter, “I’m not 
just the same as when I went into the hospital.” 

“Indeed !” said his grandfather, kindly. 

“No, sir. I thought,” and he pointed a finger at 
the princess, “that I’d raise and sell her, but now I 
don’t want to.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

“I will tell you,” said his grandfather, very kindly 
and very seriously, “your hard lesson has taught you 
that a boy is not all legs, stomach, and brain. He 
has also a heart.” 


CHAPTER IV 
The Judge’s Vow 

The Judge often looked up at a large painting on 
his study wall — “Even This Shall Pass Away.” 

The words were issuing from the lips of an Ori- 
ental king who, seated on a magnificent throne, was 
receiving the homage of his courtiers. A half-sad, 
half-indulgent smile played about his face, and on 
his uplifted hand there could be seen the words 
deeply cut on a finger ring, “Even This Shall Pass 
Away.” 

The Judge often looked at this picture. How 
many, many things had passed away in his experi- 
ence — things that apparently never would pass away! 
How the time had dragged when Titus lay ill in the 
hospital! It had seemed as if he would always be 
ill, as if his grandfather would always be at home, 
a worried and suffering man. But now only a few 
weeks had gone by and Titus was at home, and 
things were going on as they had before his acci- 
dent. 

The boy was going to school again — no fear of 
fights now. He could stutter as much as he pleased. 
The boys, half savages as some of them appeared 
to be, were afraid to touch him. 

After breakfast the Judge read his paper, went 
downtown to the post office, the bank, and his club, 
then came home. 


37 


The Judge’s Vow 

The princess was always waiting for him, in her 
basket by the hearth rug if it were raining, or on 
the balcony if it were fine. 

As soon as he appeared in the doorway she flew 
to meet him, lighted on his shoulder, rubbed her 
beak gently against his ear, saying “Rookety cahoo !” 
a great number of times. 

When he put her on the hardwood floor she would 
circle round his feet, and finally retire to her basket, 
where she sat and watched him. 

He had become her prime favorite. She liked 
Mrs. Blodgett and Higby, and she endured Titus, 
but she loved the Judge. 

On this particular day, or rather evening, she was 
very much disturbed. The Judge had had his nap 
in the afternoon, and his drive, and his dinner, and 
now in the firelight and incandescent light, when the 
room was snug and cozy, he ought to be reading in 
his big chair, with herself, the princess, on one arm 
of it, occasionally getting her head scratched. But 
instead of following the usual order of things he 
was muttering to himself something about a vow, 
and was pacing about the room. 

The princess did not like it, and showed her dis- 
pleasure by a succession of sulky “Rookety cahoos !” 
uttered from her basket. 

After a time the Judge rang the bell. 

“Jennie,” he said when the parlor maid appeared, 
“ask Master Titus to come here after he finishes 
studying his lessons.” 

Half an hour later Titus came whistling down the 
hall. 

“W-w-well, grandfather,” he said, as he came into 


38 Princess Sukey 

the study, “what do you want — a-a-a game of back- 
gammon ?” 

“No,” said the Judge, “I want to talk to you. Sit 
down.” 

Titus threw himself into a chair, and stared at 
him. 

“When you were ill,” began the Judge, “I, in my 
extremity, promised my Maker that if you were 
spared to me I would show my gratitude by adopting 
some poor child who had no home of his own.” 

“W-w-whew !” exclaimed Titus, and he drew his 
black brows together. 

The Judge was not surprised. He had feared that 
Titus might be jealous of another lad. 

He waited a minute or two, then he went on 
firmly: “This was not blind impulse. I have all 
my life known that it was not good for a child to 
be brought up alone. Being alone tends to egotism. 
We are very happy, you and I, yet I know it would 
be better for you to have another lad to share your 
sorrows and joys.” 

“H-h-he might fight me,” said Titus, gloomily. 

“I shall get one much younger than you,” replied 
the Judge. 

“O-O-O!” said Titus, easily, “then I can lick 
him.” 

“Titus,” said the Judge, “you know that there are 
boys and girls in the world less favored than your- 
self.” 

“Y-y-yes, sir, but they are dirty and lazy, and they 
have awful manners.” 

“If we get a young child we can mold him. I 
feel it my duty, boy. I have enough for you and 


39 


The Judge’s Vow 

another lad. There is a fearful amount of suffering 
in the world. We should do what we can to lessen 
it.” 

“I-I-I don’t want one of those River Street cubs,” 
said Titus, sharply. 

“I shall take the greatest pains to get a boy of 
good antecedents,” said the Judge, decidedly. “You 
know that my profession has brought me into con- 
tact with crime and criminals. I have a horror of 
inherited vicious tendencies.” 

“A-a-all right, sir,” replied Titus, with a sigh. 
“If you’ve promised we’ve got to do it,” and getting 
up he walked over to his grandfather and threw his 
arm over his shoulder. 

Titus was a reserved boy, but just now his slim 
young figure, pressed close to the chair in which the 
Judge sat, was brimful of eloquence. 

The Judge’s lip quivered. “Titus,” he said, 
slowly, “I shall never love another boy as I love you, 
and, to tell the truth, I half wish now that I had not 
made that vow; but I was in dire trouble, and the 
Lord delivered me out of it. Should I not show 
gratitude ?” 

“Y-y-yes, sir,” said Titus, hastily. “We’ve had a 
hard time. I had thoughts too, sir, when I was lying 
in bed so long. I’ve deceived you in lots of things. 
I’m going to be more straight — I-I-I guess it’s all 
right to take a kid. W-w-we’ll bring him to be just 
like you and me,” and with a grin he rubbed his 
black head against his grandfather’s white one, and 
then scampered away to bed. 

Now the princess was happy. With a great sigh 
of relief the Judge settled himself back in his chair, 


40 Princess Sukey 

pulled the reading light toward him, and took up a 
book. 

Sukey flew to his side, and when he became too 
much absorbed in his reading to rub her white head 
she leaned over and gently pecked his hand. 

Young Titus’s illness had extended over a long 
and cold autumn and into the first part of December. 
By Christmas time he was dashing about in his old 
way, though he still had a slight limp. Only time 
would cure that, the doctors said. 

The limp did not keep him off his feet. From 
morning till night he was rushing about somewhere, 
and when the Christmas holidays came he was sim- 
ply omnipresent. 

According to a long-established custom, he and 
his grandfather went downtown every Christmas 
Eve to see the shops and the people. They started 
early on this Christmas Eve — just as soon as they 
had had their dinner — and they both would have 
been very much surprised if anyone had told them 
that during this evening a chance would come for 
the fulfillment of the Judge’s vow. 

Ever since he had mentioned the matter to Titus 
the Judge had been quietly looking about for a boy. 
He had visited several orphan asylums, and he had 
written to friends, but though the orphans were 
plentiful he was fastidious, and so far some defect 
had been found in every one proposed to him. 

“This is a joyful season, sir,” said young Titus, 
as he endeavored to stride along in a manly fashion 
beside his grandfather. 

The Judge nodded, for this particular season was, 
as Titus said, an ideal one. Enough snow had fallen 


4i 


The Judge's Vow 

to make sleighing pleasant, the air was clear and 
frosty, but not too sharp, and the days were cloud- 
less and the nights bright. It was a pleasure to be 
out. 

The usual Christmas stir prevailed. The streets 
were full of people, the shops were crowded. The 
Judge and Titus had nothing to buy. The boy had 
bought his presents for his grandfather and the 
servants, and the Judge had his gifts all neatly done 
up and labeled. They were in two of the big 
drawers of one of his bookcases, and Princess Sukey, 
the pigeon, had been the only one to see them as 
yet. 

Everything was gay and cheerful. Nobody 
seemed sad, nobody sorry. Boys and girls, men and 
women, were laughing and talking cheerily, and 
Titus was staring about, his eyes going this way and 
that way, until at last his grandfather turned his 
wandering gaze in one direction by saying, “What 
do you suppose is the matter with that boy?" 

Titus looked straight in front of him. 

A small child clad in a long coat and having on a 
shabby fur cap was trotting along in front of them. 
Sometimes he would take several steps in a straight 
and assured way, then he would falter and stagger. 
Once in a while he would reel up against the shop 
windows. Upon one of these occasions he pressed 
his little face against the frosty glass and gazed in 
at the toys. 

The child's cheeks were white and dirty, his eyes 
were sleepy, and Titus said in a puzzled way, “Do 
you suppose anyone would give him anything to 
make him stagger?" 


42 


Princess Sukey 


“Hardly,” said the Judge, “the little fellow must 
have extraordinarily weak ankles. Watch him.” 

The child set out again, and this time he stag- 
gered so badly that he fell on the snowy pavement. 
There he sat with his little face bent, a curious smile 
playing about his lips as he gazed, not at the passers- 
by, but down at the ice and snow. 

The Judge and Titus were the first to reach him. 
“Here,” said the Judge, and he looked down at the 
child, “try again,” and he set him on his feet. 

The little boy gave him a slow, scrutinizing 
glance, then he smiled mysteriously and said, “My 
little trotters slipped on the ghosts of running 
things.” 

“A-a-are you ill?” asked Titus, sharply. 

The child softly patted the front of his coat with 
his mittened hand, “They kept me late, and Mr. Rat 
is at his old tricks.” 

“You are hungry,” said the Judge. 

The child yawned — such a tired, weak little yawn 
that, to the Judge’s surprise, he tried to suppress. 
Then he nodded his little head a great many times. 
“There’s something in the oven for me, but it’s a 
long way there.” 

“We are obstructing the way,” said the Judge, 
and indeed many persons had stopped and were lis- 
tening. “Take his hand, Titus — here, child, come 
into this restaurant.” 

Like one walking in sleep he gave his hand to 
Titus, and allowed himself to be led into the bril- 
liantly lighted white and gold room. 

“W-w-wonder what he thinks of it?” murmured 
Titus to himself. “Here, boy, take off your cap.” 


43 


The Judge’s Vow 

The little boy struggled to keep his hairy or almost 
hairless headgear, but Titus was inexorable. He 
finally gave it up, but he gazed at Titus with a 
slightly injured air, as the bigger boy handed the 
shabby fur thing to the waiter. 

Then with babyish vanity he put up a hand and 
smoothed the thin crop of curls plastered down on 
his forehead by a band of perspiration. 

“What will you have?” said the Judge to him 
after they had seated themselves at a small table. 

“Cats like milk,” he said, dreamily, “and dogs 
like broo.” 

Titus stared at him, then he said under his breath 
to his grandfather, “I-i-is he crazy?” 

“No, he is repeating a Scotch jingle. ‘Broo’ is 
broth. He is terribly tired. Child,” he went on, 
“would you like me to read you the menu?” 

“Please, sir,” he said, shyly, and with tired grace 
he handed the Judge the bit of cardboard with which 
he was playing. 

The Judge elevated his eyebrows, put on his eye- 
glasses, and took the menu from him. 

“Oysters, sir,” said the child, seriously, when the 
Judge had run over the list, “ bouillon , and Demo- 
crat-Republican ice cream.” 

Democrat-Republican ice cream was a specialty 
of this same first-class restaurant, and Titus, hearing 
this poverty-stricken child show familiarity with its 
merits, snickered aloud in his amusement. 

His grandfather gave him a warning glance, but 
the child had not heard him. He was wearily look- 
ing about the pretty room with an air that said, “I 
have seen all this before.” Then, while waiting for 


44 Princess Sukey 

their orders to be filled, he quietly dropped to 
sleep. 

Meanwhile the Judge and Titus studied his ap- 
pearance. 

“Do you see,” said the Judge, “that though his 
face and hands are dirty his wrists are clean. He 
is only dirty outside. Look at his ragged little shirt 
cuffs. They are quite white — and how nicely his 
coat is darned.” 

Titus nodded, and as the Judge noted the kindly 
look on the boy’s face as he surveyed the sleeping 
child a light broke over his own face. He was not 
romantic nor sentimental, but he was a religious 
man, and he believed in the leadings of Providence. 

He had been guided to this boy. What a brother 
he would make for Titus — that is, and he prudently 
added an afterthought, if he was without incum- 
brances, and his antecedents were good — and mean- 
while the little child slept on. 

“B-b-boy,” said Titus, presently, “wake up, and 
eat your victuals.” 

The child opened his eyes, smiled sweetly at him, 
and calmly took up a fork. 

He went to sleep between oysters and bouillon, 
and bouillon and ice cream. He slept putting a piece 
of bread to his mouth — indeed, he slept with such 
frequency that Titus wondered how he managed to 
tuck away so much food. 

At last he had finished, and then he did something 
that considerably mystified the Judge and Titus. 

After wiping his mouth with his napkin he put 
the napkin on the table, and unbuttoning his coat 
he slipped a hand in the front of it. 


The Judge’s Vow 45 

As he did this the sleepy look left his eyes, and a 
sorrowful one came in its place. Drawing out a 
small handkerchief with a border of marvelous lions 
and tigers, he unrolled it, pretended to take some- 
thing out of it and put it on the table. Then he 
placed crumbs of bread and cake before this imag- 
inary thing. 

“W-w-what are you doing?” asked Titus, bluntly. 

“Feeding the little one,” said the child, solemnly. 

“W-w-what little one? There isn’t any there.” 

“Don’t you see my little mouse?” he asked, im- 
patiently. 

“A-a-a mouse!” exclaimed Titus, “je-whillikens ! 
I don’t like mice.” 

“He’s dead,” said the child, softly; “a strange 
pussy killed him — not our pussy.” 

“H-h-how’ can you feed him if he’s dead?” pur- 
sued Titus, with boyish callousness. 

“But he has a little ghost,” said the strange child, 
gently shaking his head, “and I carry it here — have 
you had enough, mousie ?” and he tenderly lowered 
his head to the table. 

“Yes,” he said, softly speaking to himself; then 
he took up the ghost, wrapped it in his handker- 
chief, and put it back in his little bosom. 

The Judge felt a strange misgiving. Another 
animal enthusiast — and this one worse than Titus, 
for Titus had little imagination, and interested him- 
self only with the live bodies of animals, not their 
dead shades. 

The mouse episode over, the child again became 
sleepy. Titus, who had managed to dispose of some 
ice cream himself, jammed the boy’s fur cap down on 


Princess Sukey 


46 

his head, and guided his steps behind the Judge to 
the door of the restaurant. 

There the child sank down on the doorstep. 

“U-u-upon my word,” stuttered Titus, “he’s say- 
ing his prayers. T-t-this time he’ll be off for good — 
must have been drugged.” 

“It’s a case of natural or unnatural fatigue,” said 
his grandfather. “Drugs would probably cause him 
to sleep uninterruptedly. Go get a sleigh and we 
will drive him home. Child,” and he bent down and 
slightly shook him, “where do you live?” 

“Forty-five River Street,” he replied, drowsily, 
“at Mrs. Tingsby’s.” 

When he found himself lifted in among warm 
fur sleigh robes he slept more soundly than ever. 

“River Street — River Street,” said the Judge. 
“Poor child!” 

In a short time they had left the crowded, brightly 
lighted streets, and were traversing the long, dingy 
narrow one that Titus so much disliked. 

On one side of the street there were wharves be- 
hind the houses. The traffic for the day was over, 
and the wharves were dull and deserted, but there 
was some life on the street, particularly about the 
saloons and small shops. 

Even River Street must have its Christmas Eve. 

“Forty-five,” said the driver, “here it is,” and he 
stopped beside a narrow house — the middle one of 
three dingy, uninviting dwellings. 

“Mere shells of buildings,” muttered the Judge, 
glancing up at the houses, “and the poor haven’t 
coal to heat them, while we with well built houses 
have plenty of fuel,” 


The Judge’s Vow 47 

When the sleigh stopped, and the merry jingle 
of the horses’ bells ceased, a curtain was pulled aside 
from a window of number forty-five, then the door 
flew open, and a thin slip of a woman in a cotton 
dress ran out to meet them. 

“O, the child ! the child ! — don’t say death to me !” 

“Motherly anxiety,” commented the Judge to him- 
self, and strange to say his heart sank. If the boy 
had a mother he would never get him. 

He stared at the excited wisp of a woman who 
was dragging the child from the fur robes, and was 
violently hugging him. “O, Bethany ! Bethany ! you 
aint dead.” 

“Dead, no,” said the Judge, “he is only asleep,” 
and he proceeded to tell the woman the story of 
their finding the child. 

She listened to him, holding her head up, and with 
a strained expression on her thin face, and after a 
time the Judge stopped talking, for he discovered 
that she had not heard a word of what he was saying. 

“I’m deef !” she exclaimed, “deefer than that iron 
post. Come in, come in,” and clutching the little 
boy firmly by the hand she backed into a tiny hall, 
and threw open the door of a small front room where 
a table was set as if for a meal. 

“Wait for us,” said the Judge to the cabman, then 
he followed her. 

The cloth on the table was white but threadbare, 
and the appointments were all so meager that the 
Judge averted his head. He had a tender heart, and 
now that he was getting toward old age the awful 
inequality between the lot of the rich and the poor 
struck a painful sympathy to his heart. 


48 


Princess Sukey 


“What makes this boy so sleepy?” he asked, point- 
ing to the little child. 

The woman saw his gesture. “Ah ! sir,” she said, 
“it’s cruel to keep them so late. They begin work 
at nine in the morning.” 

“Work!” echoed Titus. 

His clear young voice reached the deaf woman’s 
ear. 

“That there child,” she said, pointing to the little 
boy, who was sitting on a small stool stifling yawns, 
“has been at work sence nine this morning with bare 
an hour for lunch — just as sure as I’m a livin’ 
woman.” 

“What work does he do?” asked the Judge. 

The woman did not hear him, but she guessed 
what his question would be. 

“From nine to five is the hours, and in the sight 
of my Maker I vow I’d not let any child in my care 
go to sech slavery, if it weren’t that I’m so hard 
pressed that upon my word the soul is fairly racked 
out of me to get victuals for my children.” 

“What does he do?” roared the Judge in her ear. 

“Do, sir — makes paper boxes. You know about 
Christmas time how the rich folks must have boxes 
to put their candy in. The contracts for boxes is let 
out to men who swallow up the poor. There’s doz- 
ens of poor children a-slavin’ in this city, agin’ the 
law and unbeknownst to the law. I wish the Lord 
had never made Christmas. It’s a good time for 
the rich. You take out your fat pocketbooks an’ 
order presents for each other, an’ you wait till the 
last minute, an’ then the poor has to go to work.” 

The Judge wrinkled his white brows. 


49 


The Judge’s Vow 

“Look at that table, sir,” continued the woman, 
“set sence five o’clock this evenin’ — the time the 
poor is supposed to git off. Look at the sour bread 
the baker sells us, an’ the salt butter the grocer 
weighs us, an’ the molasses, an’ rind of cheese. 
That’s our Christmas Eve supper, but sech as it is 
it’s been waitin’ for hours for my boarders.” 

The Judge said nothing, but his gaze went round 
the shabby room. Nothing more unlike his idea of 
a boarding house could be imagined. 

The little thin woman with the sharp eyes inter- 
preted his glance. 

“Yes, sir, I earns my livin’ by keepin’ boarders — 
ever sence my husband was poisoned to death by 
work in the city sewers. There’s that boarder,” and 
she pointed to a plate on the table — “Matthew Jones. 
He works in a fur store — overtime now, because it’s 
Christmas, and some grand lady must have her set 
of sables to-night. The light is poor in his work- 
room, an’ his eyes is bad, but no matter — he’s got 
to work or be fired. Then next to him sits Harry 
Ray. He’s in the express employ. Only seventeen, 
an’ an orphan. He’s drivin’ till one and two every 
night now, an’ eatin’ his lunch on his seat in his 
cart. He’s got an awful cold. After Christmas 
he’ll likely take time to have newmania or grip. 
Then there’s old man Fanley. He’s carry in’ parcels 
for a small firm — poor old soul, stumblin’ round in 
the cold at night when he ought to be in bed. O! 
sir, we don’t hate work, we poor uns, we’ll slave all 
day, but I do think the rich might let us have our 
nights. We’d serve ’em better, sir, we would.” 

The Judge bent his white head and nodded it 


50 


Princess Sukey 


sadly. At times there seemed no joy, no pleasure 
in life, only stern taskmasters and shrinking slaves. 

“It’s hardest on the children,” pursued the woman 
in a lower tone. * “My heart bleeds for ’em. Pve 
just got me own in bed. They’re all workin’ too, 
now that it’s holiday time. I was just waitin’ for 
this stray lamb,” and her glance softened as it fell 
on the bobbing form of the sleeping child. 

The Judge raised his head. “Isn’t this your 
child?” he asked, sharply. 

The woman turned to Titus. “What do he say?” 

Titus repeated the question, and she intently 
watched the motion of his lips. 

“My child!” she exclaimed. “O, law no! Look 
at my hair, sir, black as a crow’s. Those curls be 
quite light,” and she stepped over and laid a hand 
on the child’s head. 

“Whose child is he?” asked the Judge. 

The woman turned to Titus with an impatient 
gesture. “You say it. His mustache do cover his 
lips. I can’t see ’em.” 

“P-parents,” cried Titus, “of that boy. Who is 
his mother?” 

“Mother!” repeated Mrs. Tingsby, “nay, that I 
can’t say till I finds an owner for the child. ‘Susan 
Tingsby,’ said his ma when she lay a-dyin’ in this 
very house, ‘Susan Tingsby, you’ve been a good 
friend to me. When the Lord sends some one to 
take my baby tell my poor story, such as it is’ — an’, 
sir, I’ve kept the child these ten months. Often 
I’ve hardly had bread for me own, but the child of 
the stranger never suffered.” 

The Judge sat quietly for a few minutes. Now 


SI 


The Judge’s Vow 

that his attention was called to the fact that the 
woman was not the child’s mother he saw quite a 
difference in their faces. Mrs. Tingsby’s sharp, dark 
features were very unlike the pale, plump face of the 
little one. 

“Yes!” she suddenly ejaculated, “the child’s fat 
enough.” 

The Judge looked at her. Though deaf she was 
not stupid, and she was marvelously clever at under- 
standing one’s thoughts. 

“The children of the poor is mostly that,” she 
continued. “Much sour bread puffs ’em out, an’ 
likewise fresh air which they has plenty of. But 
bless your heart, it aint good flesh like rich chil- 
dren’s. Newmania and consumption takes ’em off 
like smoke.” 

“Ask her to what station in life the boy’s mother 
belonged,” said the Judge to Titus. 

“W-w-was its mother a lady?” vociferated the 
boy, with a nod toward the child. 

“A lady ! Well, I guess so,” replied Mrs. Tingsby, 
indignantly, “as much as you be. She were a school- 
teacher — out of New York. I know her maiden 
name. Her husband’s name weren’t nothin’ remark- 
able. I don’t mind sayin’ it. It were Smith.” 

“Ask her what the husband’s character was,” said 
the Judge. 

“H-h-husband,” continued Titus, “was he good?” 

“He were an imp,” said Mrs. Tingsby, shortly. 

“An imp,” murmured the Judge. “Go on, Titus, 
extract some more information. You can guess 
pretty well what I want to know.” 

“W-w-what do you mean by an imp?” stuttered 


Princess Sukey 


52 

the boy, speaking very slowly, and shaping his words 
well with his mouth. 

“Well, young sir,” said Mrs. Tingsby, ironically, 
“when you grows up and marries a wife, and goes 
off an’ leaves her in a poor boardin’ place like this, 
an’ only comes home once in a while, an’ takes her 
an’ the child to a swell restaurant for lunch, an’ 
then goes off an’ leaves her to bread and molasses 
again, I’ll say you are an imp.” 

“I-I-I don’t care much for this woman,” said the 
abashed Titus under his breath to his grandfather. 

“Never mind, boy — she means well. Ask some 
more questions. What was the husband’s business ?” 

Titus grinned in an embarrassed way. “W-w- 
what was the imp’s business ?” he inquired. 

“Servin’ his master,” said the woman, shortly, and 
with a glance at the now sleeping child, “an’ some- 
times gettin’ big pay, an’ sometimes poor — what’s 
his business?” and she abruptly jerked a forefinger 
in the Judge’s direction. 

“H-h-he’s a judge,” said the boy, proudly, “re- 
tired a few years ago — o-o-on account of ill health,” 
he added ; “but he’s all right now.” 

“Ah!” replied Mrs. Tingsby, and still staring at 
the Judge she addressed him significantly, “maybe 
you’ve seen him purfessionally.” 

Judge Sancroft felt an inward recoil, though he 
said nothing. But he rose almost immediately, and 
looked at his grandson. 

Mrs. Tingsby was a remarkably shrewd woman. 
Under the Judge’s reserved exterior she saw plainly 
that his heart had been going out to the orphan 
child. 


S3 


The Judge’s Vow 

“The father is dead/’ she said, briefly, “buried by 
the mother — an’ she were a saint on earth, an’ is 
now a saint in heaven.” 

The Judge said nothing, and picking up his fur 
gloves he slowly began to draw them on. 

Mrs. Tingsby’s strained, eager face was bent on 
him. “The father of the imp were a minister of the 
gospel,” she continued, “an’ the imp’s wife — ” 

She paused an instant. The dead woman had told 
her clearly not to reveal her maiden name except to 
the person who would adopt her child; but Mrs. 
Tingsby was so sure that this person stood before 
her that she made up her mind to a slight breach 
of confidence. 

“The mother were a Hittaker,” she said, grandly. 

The Judge had never heard of the Hittakers, and 
therefore did not look impressed. 

The woman in her anxiety pulled Titus by the 
sleeve. “Ask him — aint he heard of Hittaker — big 
soap manufacturer. Why, it’s in all the groceries.” 

Titus shook his head. He saw that his grand- 
father did not know the name. 

“Inquire why she does not apply to these people,” 
said Judge Sancroft. 

Titus asked her. 

“Apply to ’em! Bless you, didn’t she? What 
won’t a woman do for her child. But her own par- 
ents be dead. These Hittakers be uncle and cousin 
to her, an’ they wouldn’t do a thing — sent back her 
last letter.” 

The Judge got up. “I’ll send some one to you,” 
he said. “Titus, you tell her. I’ll report her case, 
and have some aid given her.” 


54 


Princess Sukey 


Titus in his boyish fashion rattled off a sentence. 
“M-m-my grandfather will send help to you. May- 
be he can get the child a home.” 

Mrs. Tingsby laid a lean hand on Titus, but she 
looked at his grandfather. “An’ you don’t want 
the orphan yourself, sir?” 

The Judge shook his head. 

Mrs. Tingsby locked her hands together. “I like 
your face, sir. There has been people fancyin’ the 
child, but I didn’t fancy ’em.” 

Judge Sancroft smiled faintly. Then his hand 
went toward his pocket. 

The little woman’s face flushed crimson. “I’m 
no beggar, sir. I’ve no wish for money I can’t 
earn.” The Judge put out a hand and took hers. 
“Titus, shake hands with her,” he said. 

“G-g-grandfather,” ejaculated the boy as they 
stepped over the threshold of the door leading into 
the little dark hall, “look at her!” 

Mrs. Tingsby stood holding the small lamp aloft 
for them, with tears running down her cheeks, 
and a painful, almost terrified, expression in her 
eyes. 

“I’ve told a dead woman’s secret, sir,” she said 
in response to the Judge’s look of inquiry. “I’ve 
risked me soul, an’ it aint done no good.” 

The woman’s expression of suffering was so genu- 
ine that the Judge stopped short. How cruel to lay 
another burden on this already overburdened 
back! 

She was an honest woman, he could see that. He 
had had a long experience in the study of human 
nature, and she would not have been able to deceive 


55 


The Judge’s Vow 

him if she had wished. Suppose he took the child 
from her. With his connections and influence he 
could easily find a home for it. 

“Madam,” he said, courteously, and stepping 
back, “this is Christmas Eve, and from my heart 
I wish you good cheer. If it will give you pleasure, 
I am willing to take the child, and to pledge myself 
to find a good home for him.” 

The woman again twitched Titus by the sleeve. 
She had partly, but not wholly, understood. 

Titus, who was getting excited, stopped stuttering 
and told her. 

When he finished she turned round, set the lamp 
down on the table, and threw up her hands. 

“Thank the Lord! Thank the Lord! Here, 
duckie, old Mother Tingsby has found you a home. 
Stir up, and go with the gentleman,” and in fever- 
ish haste she aroused the sleeping child, got him on 
his feet, and put his cap on his head. 

“Well, well,” said the Judge, in some hesitation, 
“I did not think of taking him to-night.” 

The woman did not hear him, though she spoke 
as if she had. “Better have it over in darkness, with 
none to see and none to hear. I don’t want to drag 
down that sweet woman’s child by any connection 
with me. Ah ! sir, she was like a sister to me. I’ll 
miss her child,” and with very genuine regret she 
embraced the bewildered little boy. 

“I assure you,” vociferated the Judge, “that I am 
not in the habit of doing things in secret. I do not 
care who knows that I have taken a poor child from 
River Street.” 

Mrs. Tingsby did not hear him, and Titus was too 


56 Princess Sukey 

excited to report, so the Judge slightly shrugged his 
shoulders. 

“I’ll miss my baby — I’ll miss my baby !” she cried, 
“for there’s not a soul younger in the house but 
the kitten — good-bye, pet — good-bye. Old Mother 
Tingsby will sometimes sneak up to look in your 
windows. Sir, you’ll never give up this child — 
you’ll let your soul go first.” 

The Judge smiled slightly, and catching this smile 
she suddenly flung up her black head and fixed two 
shrewd eyes on him. 

“Sir, don’t you be afraid of no fathers an’ grand- 
fathers. Some of my boarders was talkin’ the other 
evenin’. Says one of ’em, says he, T’ve been readin’ 
a magazine article. It says everyone of us has had 
thieves an’ robbers in our ancestors.’ Do you be- 
lieve that, sir?” 

The Judge, in a slightly bewildered state of mind, 
was pushing his way out to the hall door, beyond 
this flood of talk. He had a feeling that he would 
like to reach the quiet of his own home, and think 
things over. However, some sort of an answer 
was due to her, so he turned once more. “I would 
rather have had that boy’s father an honest 
man.” 

Mrs. Tingsby was so close on his heels, and was 
listening so intently, that she caught a few words. 

“Boy — yes !” she exclaimed, nodding her head at 
Titus, and grinning amiably, “an honest boy!” 

“I say,” roared the Judge, stopping short, “that I 
wish your little boy had had an unblemished par- 
entage.” 

“My boy,” she responded, sadly, “my boy — why, 


The Judge’s Vow 57 

sir, I have three — an’ how I’m goin’ to raise ’em the 
Lord knows.” 

Meanwhile the child was drawing back. He was 
now thoroughly roused from sleep, and his little face 
was quite disturbed. 

“Mother Tingsby,” he said, pulling at the wom- 
an’s gown, and drawing down her ear to his small 
mouth, “is this the husband of the good third 
mother ?” 

“Yes, lamb, yes,” said the woman, nodding her 
head a great many times, “an’ your second mother 
bids you go. Be good an’ clever.” 

The child gave her an anguished glance. He did 
not wish to go with these strangers. However, he 
had been trained to look forward to just such an 
event, and he made no protest. Putting his little 
hand in the one that Titus held out, he followed the 
Judge to the street. 


CHAPTER V 
A Surprise for the Judge 

No one spoke on the way home. The Judge and 
Titus on the back seat of the sleigh scarcely took 
their eyes from the serious, little face of the 
strangely pale, quiet child opposite. 

He was not sleepy now. They could see the two 
large brown eyes shining with the steady light of 
two solemn stars. 

When they reached their home on the avenue, 
Titus politely assisted the child to alight, and took 
his hand as they went up the long steps. 

Higby had gone to bed, and the parlor-maid’s 
face as she opened the door was a study. Nobody 
explained matters to her, and in a complete state of 
mystification she was sent to request Mrs. Blodgett’s 
immediate presence in the parlor. 

Titus had lifted the little stranger to a chair, and 
was drawing off his cap and mittens. 

“Mrs. Blodgett,” said the Judge, when that good 
woman appeared, “I wish you to take charge of this 
child. Put him to sleep at once. If he is nervous, 
some one must sleep in the room with him. Don’t 
give him a bath to-night. He is very tired. In the 
morning dress him and bring him down to break- 
fast.” 

Mrs. Blodgett, in amazement, looked down at 
the shabby child. Who was this ? She was not fond 


A Surprise for the Judge 59 

of children, except her own — and poor and dirty 
children she detested. 

However, a little hand was stealing into hers. A 
tired, unhappy face was looking trustfully up at her, 
seeking the kind glances of a third mother. 

Mrs. Blodgett would have been less than a woman 
if she could have resisted. This was probably some 
child who was here only for the night. 

“Yes, sir,” she said, respectfully, and with the 
little boy clinging closely to her, instead of bestow- 
ing glances on the Judge and Titus, she went 
upstairs. 

The Judge and his grandson did not talk much 
that night. The Judge slowly sipped his glass of 
hot milk and then went to bed. He lived a quiet 
life, and the adventure of the evening had given him 
many problems to think over. 

Titus was quite excited. Ordinarily the approach 
of Christmas Day did not stir him very much, but 
now that there was another young person in the 
house he felt his pulse quickened. This strange boy 
must have some presents. Should he give him some 
of his new ones, or would old ones be sufficient? 
He would consult his grandfather about it. He had 
a lot of old toys up in the attic. To-morrow morn- 
ing he would ask Higby to get them down, or, 
better still, he would take the youngster up there. 
Poor little chap — how mean to make him work, 
and with some hitherto unknown generous im- 
pulses animating his sturdy young breast Titus fell 
asleep. 

He was late for breakfast the next morning. His 
grandfather had already had prayers, the servants 


6o 


Princess Sukey 


had scattered to their various employments, and 
Higby was just taking in a second supply of coffee 
to the dining room. 

“B-b-beg pardon, grandfather,” said Titus, hur- 
rying in after the man. “I-I-I fell asleep again after 
Higby knocked at my door. M-merry Christmas 
and many of them !” and seating himself at the table 
he looked around in great approbation. 

The long handsome room was flooded with sun- 
light. 

“G-g-good old sun,” ejaculated Titus, approv- 
ingly. “I-I-I can dress better when he shines on 
me. I-I-I hate the dark, early part of the morning. 
W-where’s the child, sir?” 

The Judge looked toward the door. Higby was 
just throwing it open for Mrs. Blodgett and her 
charge. 

Then an amusing scene took place. In the door- 
way stood Mrs. Blodgett, and a pale, pretty little 
girl dressed in a dainty white cloth dress trimmed 
with gold braid. 

The Judge and Titus looked at Mrs. Blodgett. 
They both knew that she possessed a little grand- 
daughter of whom she was inordinately proud. This 
child sometimes came to the house, and she often 
presented her to the Judge for a word or a kind 
glance. 

Just now he gave both — “A merry Christmas, 
little one. Come here and get an orange. Mrs. 
Blodgett, how is the boy this morning?” 

Mrs. Blodgett pushed the child, who did not seem 
inclined to leave her, toward the Judge, then she 
said in a puzzled way, “The boy, sir?” 


A Surprise for the Judge 6i 

“Yes — the boy I brought home last night,” re- 
plied the Judge. 

“The boy, sir,” she repeated in amazement, while 
an additional flood of color swept over her rubicund 
face. “There weren’t no boy, sir.” 

The Judge gazed patiently at her. Mrs. Blodgett 
was getting older. He had noticed several times 
lately that she seemed a little stupid and did not 
understand quickly what was said to her. 

“You surely remember the little boy I brought 
home with me last evening?” 

Mrs. Blodgett gazed up at the ceiling, down at 
the floor, under the table, and behind her out into 
the hall as if seeking a lost child. 

Then she said, faintly, “As I am a mortal woman, 
sir, I didn’t see no boy, sir. He must have slipped 
off on the doorstep. I know these poor children. 
They’re sneaky as foxes.” 

“No, he did not slip away,” said the Judge, with 
a quiet smile. “I brought him in and gave him to 
you.” 

Mrs. Blodgett’s face was purple, and she turned 
to Higby in quiet exasperation. “Now, if you’d 
been about, instead of bein’ in bed, I’d have said it 
was some of them queer tricks of yours.” 

“Do not make a scapegoat of Higby,” said the 
Judge, decidedly, “but let your memory go back to 
last evening. This is a serious matter, Mrs. Blodg- 
ett. I had a young boy in my charge. I am an- 
swerable for his safety. I brought him in the house 
and gave him into your care. Now, what has be- 
come of him ?” 

“Lawks-a-massy !” exclaimed Mrs. Blodgett, join- 


62 


Princess Sukey 


ing her hands in embarrassment and staring wildly 
about her, “Is it you, Judge Sancroft, speakin’, and 
am I, Dorinda Blodgett, a-listenin’ ?” 

“You seem to be listening,” remarked the Judge, 
dryly, “but you certainly are not understanding. 
Please go away and search your memory and the 
house for that boy. Titus, what is the matter with 
you ?” 

“Are you crazy, too?” the Judge felt like adding, 
but fortunately for himself he did not do so. While 
he had been speaking the child had been creeping 
shyly toward him, and Titus’s eyes were glued on 
her. The Judge turned his eyes quickly on the little 
girl. Now that he examined her more closely he 
saw that this was no offspring from the Blodgett 
stock. Where had he seen before that thin band of 
curls, those big, solemn eyes ? 

“Sir,” Mrs. Blodgett was sniffling miserably, 
while she made a ball of her pocket handkerchief, 
“you aint never doubted my word afore. It’s time 
for me to quit your service.” 

“I am not doubting your word,” he said, absently, 
“only — ” and he again stared at the child. 

“Where did you get this little girl?” he asked, 
shortly. 

“ ’Tis the same little girl you brought in last 
evenin’, sir, the same little girl what weren’t accom- 
panied by no boy, sure as I’m alive. Jennie, she 
saw her — ask her if there were a boy too.” 

“Upon my word!” exclaimed the Judge, bring- 
ing his hand down on the table. “Upon my 
word !” 

Titus’s eyes were absolutely sticking out of his 


A Surprise for the Judge 63 

head. Then he began to cough, then to laugh, then 
to choke. 

“Sir,” said Mrs. Blodgett, uneasily, “she were 
dressed something like a boy outside, but inside was 
such a miserable little frock that I took the liberty 
of putting on her one of my grandchild, Mary Ann’s, 
outgrown party ones that I’m goin’ to give to an 
orphan asylum.” 

Still the Judge did not speak, and Mrs. Blodgett 
went on. “ ’Pears to me, now I think of it, you did 
tell me to take this little boy an’ put him to bed. 
I didn’t pay no attention, sir. As much as I honors 
you, I couldn’t think to change my Maker’s decrees 
by makin’ a little girl a little boy.” 

“O, grandfather!” gasped Titus, half under the 
table. “O ! O ! grandfather !” 

The Judge’s face relaxed, then he looked about 
him and began to smile. Then he laughed — laughed 
so heartily that Mrs. Blodgett, who was no simple- 
ton, and who was beginning to understand, joined 
in. Higby, delighted to find no share of mismanage- 
ment attributed to him, snickered agreeably, and 
even the maids who had just come up from the 
kitchen and were going to their work in different 
parts of the house, hearing the sound of enjoyable 
laughter, echoed it light-heartedly. 

“This is a good Christmas joke on you and me, 
Titus,” said the Judge at last, putting his handker- 
chief to his face to wipe his eyes. “It is said that 
one finds what one looks for. We were looking for 
a boy, and we persuaded ourselves that we had 
found one.” 

“Did that woman try to deceive you, sir ?” asked 


Princess Sukey 


64 

Titus, drawing his head from under the table and 
casting a comical glance at his grandfather, then at 
the little girl. 

“No, she had the appearance of an honest woman, 
but her deafness prevented her from hearing us 
fully. Now that I think of it, she did not once say 
that the child was a boy. We jumped to that con- 
clusion. Why did you not tell us what you were? ,, 
and he turned to the child. 

She gave him a quiet smile that assured him that 
she had not intentionally deceived him, and then 
he saw that her mouth was parched and open, and 
that her lips moved slightly as she looked beyond 
him toward the table. 

“You are hungry,” he said, courteously. “Higby, 
lift her to her seat.” 

The child looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Blodg- 
ett. She wished to sit down at the table with her, 
and with a deeply gratified smile the housekeeper 
stepped forward and arranged her in her chair. That 
glance would be set down to the little stranger’s 
credit. 

“I have to beg your pardon, Mrs. Blodgett,” said 
the Judge. “There was a misunderstanding all 
round. This little girl is an orphan. I offered to 
find a home for her, thinking that she was a boy 
because she was dressed like one. She has probably 
had on the borrowed garments of a little boy be- 
longing to the kind woman who has taken care of 
her.” 

“It’s all right, sir,” said Mrs. Blodgett. “I might 
a-remembered what you said. I call back now that 
you told me plainly she was a boy, but, as I said 


A Surprise for the Judge 65 

afore, you can’t change nater,” and with another 
gratified smile she waddled away. 

Meanwhile Titus, having recovered, or nearly re- 
covered, himself, for he found it necessary to drop 
his napkin on the floor every two minutes and to 
be a long time in picking it up, stared almost unin- 
terruptedly at the little girl. 

She was eating an orange that the Judge had 
given her, eating it prettily and quietly and without 
splashing the juice on her white gown, and casting 
meantime curious and searching glances about the 
room. 

The boy or girl problem disturbed the Judge some- 
what. He could not get it out of his head that she 
was a boy. It was extremely disappointing that she 
was not, for now she would be no companion for 
Titus. 

“Child,” he asked, kindly, “what is your name?” 

“Bethany,” she replied, in a low voice, “little 
Bethany. My mamma was big Bethany.” 

“Little Bethany,” said the Judge, “that is a nice 
name. Now, what are you going to have? Will 
you eat mush, cornmeal mush?” 

“If you please, sir.” 

“Higby, give her some — put plenty of cream on 
it — Indian corn is what our ancestors here in New 
England raised and gave to their children. We 
don’t eat enough of it nowadays.” 

Titus, stricken with sudden shyness, would not 
talk to the child. He knew nothing about girls, and 
did not care for them, so the Judge felt it his duty 
to keep up a conversation. 

“How old are you?” he asked. 


66 


Princess Sukey 


“Seven, sir,” she replied. 

“Do you like that mush ?” he continued, politely. 

She paused with spoon uplifted, “It is simply 
delicious, sir.” 

Titus got up and took a turn to the sideboard. His 
grandfather eyed him warningly. He had laughed 
enough. 

Suddenly the clock struck ten, and as it struck 
the child lost her quietly contented air and, blushing 
painfully, counted the strokes as they rang out. 

“O, sir,” she cried, with a guilty start and laying 
down her spoon, “I’m an hour late. I must get to 
work — the boss will be so angry.” 

The Judge stared at her. The light died out of 
his own eyes, an iron hand gripped his heart. 

In the face of that tiny child, in her start, her 
fear of consequences, he suddenly felt the pain of 
the world. Outraged childhood with its bleeding 
wounds stood before him. 

A great lump rose in his throat. For a minute 
it seemed as if his agony could not be borne. 

He groaned heavily, then he threw up his head. 
“Child !” he said, harshly, “your slavery is over.” 

His tones were severe, and the child was fright- 
ened. She slipped from her seat at the table and 
stood pale and shrinkingly before him. “Sir, I want 
to go back to Mrs. Tingsby.” 

Titus came to the rescue. “But you haven’t fed 
your mouse,” he said, kindly, and with the cunning 
of one young thing in understanding another. “And 
we’ve got some prime German cheese. Higby — ” 

The old man went to the big mahogany sideboard 
and presently came back with some crumbs of cheese. 


A Surprise for the Judge 67 

The little girl's thoughts were turned in a new 
direction. Putting her hand in her little bosom she 
drew out the marvelous handkerchief, produced the 
ghost of the mouse, fed it, and put it back again. 
Then Titus skillfully drew her toward his grand- 
father's study. “About eleven o'clock on Christ- 
mas morning we always have our presents in 
here." 

It was a pretty sight to see them go down the hall 
— the dark boy and the pretty little white girl, so 
much younger than he. 

The Judge followed closely behind them, and as 
they reached the study door and paused, he paused 
too. 

The little girl had caught sight of Princess Sukey 
sitting on her basket. She stopped short, caught 
her breath, stepped close to Titus and remained 
motionless. 

“W-w-what's the matter?" asked the boy, bluntly. 

“O, hush," murmured the child, in an ecstacy, 
“don't speak, don’t move, or she will vanish." 

“I-i-indeed she won’t — she is grandfather's bird." 

“Then she is no ghost," said Bethany, drawing a 
long sigh of relief. 

“Ghost, no. Watch her dance when I tickle her 
feet," and he stepped forward to the hearthrug. 

The princess got out of her basket when she saw 
them coming and, bowing a great many times, said, 
“Rookety cahoo!" 

“H-h-happy Christmas," replied Titus, politely; 
“lots of seeds and the best of health. Now dance 
for the little girl," and gently touching her claws 
he caused her to spin round and round. 


68 Princess Sukey 

Finally she flew over their heads to the Judge’s 
shoulder. 

“O, if I could touch her,” said the child, and she 
shivered in the intensity of her emotion. 

The Judge sat down and put the pigeon on the 
arm of his easy chair. 

‘‘Come here, little girl,” he said, “and stroke her.” 

Bethany shyly approached and held out a fore- 
finger to the Judge. 

With another sharp pang at his heart he felt that 
the tiny finger was roughened by work. Then guid- 
ing it to the white head under the hood of feathers 
he looked away from the bird and out the window. 
God helping him, this child should never toil again. 

When Bethany felt her hand touching the velvety 
feathers she gave a long shudder of delight. 

After a time, when the princess had impatiently 
thrown off the little caressing finger, Bethany threw 
up her hands to the ceiling. “I have seen them in 
the street, I have called to them, but they never let 
me touch them. I think they thought I was a cat.” 

“W-w-what do you mean — pigeons?” asked 
Titus. 

“Yes, birds — pretty birds of the air. I love them, 
but they don’t love me. Only dogs, and cats, and 
rats, and mice love me.” 

“H-h-hello !” exclaimed Titus, “there goes eleven. 
N-n-now we’ll have the presents.” 

The Judge rang the bell, and the servants, headed 
by Higby and Mrs. Blodgett, filed into the room. 

Bethany’s serious brown eyes took in every detail 
of the scene. The presentation of the good-sized 
parcels done up in white paper, the untying of 


A Surprise for the Judge 69 

strings, the exclamations and expressions of grati- 
tude, all belonged to a world that she had never 
entered before. 

Fur-lined gloves, mufflers, fur capes, and warm 
dresses for the maids, a dressing-gown for Higby, 
beautifully bound books and a new watch for Titus, 
were all spread before the eyes of the astonished 
child, and she surveyed the various gifts without a 
suspicion of envy or jealousy. The Judge saw this 
by her transparent face, and with a gesture he told 
Titus to give her a small box of candy that lay un- 
noticed among his many presents. 

The boy hastened to give it to her. 

“For me,” she ejaculated, her now pink face 
growing red, “for Bethany ?” 

“Y-y-yes, for Bethany,” said the boy, good-hu- , 
moredly. 

“O, charm of novelty,” reflected the Judge, and 
he looked round the room. He had as good a set 
of servants as there was in the city. They were as 
grateful as they could be to him for his kindly re- 
membrance of them, but it was the gratitude of 
custom, of anticipation. They knew he would give 
them handsome presents; any other well-to-do and 
well disposed employer would have done the same, 
but this child — he looked at her again. 

She was in a quiet rapture. “O, the cunning can- 
dies,” she murmured, “each one in a little dress; 
O, the pretty pink flounces.” 

“Why don’t you eat some?” inquired the Judge. 

She touched them daintily with the tips of her 
fingers. “O, sir, I could not eat them. I shall 
keep them forever and ever and ever.” 


70 


Princess Sukey 


“But they will spoil ; they were made to eat.” 

“Would you like one, sir?” she asked, anxiously. 

“No, thank you.” 

She gazed seriously into the box and began to 
count one, two, three, four, and so on. “Sir,” she 
said at last, “there are just enough to go twice 
round for Mrs. Tingsby’s children and the 
boarders.” 

The Judge smiled. She was not a selfish child. 

“I could spare one for the dear bird with the 
overcoat on and its collar turned up,” she said, 
sweetly. 

The Judge looked puzzled. 

“S-s-she means Sukey,” explained Titus. 

“Thank you, little girl ; pigeons do not eat candy.” 

“Then I think you had better take one,” she said, 
shyly, coming toward him with the box outstretched 
in her hand. 

O, sweet little childish face and childish grace ! — 
and the judge’s eyes grew moist. Once years and 
years ago God had given him two little daughters — 
two dream children, it seemed to him now, so many 
were the years that had passed since he laid the little 
childish forms away in a country churchyard. O, 
children, so long lamented, yet now almost for- 
gotten. 

“Little girl,” he said, gently, “I once had two 
small daughters not as old as you.” 

Bethany looked over her shoulder, as if he were 
speaking of some one present. 

“What do they look like?” she asked, wistfully. 
“Are their faces white like mine, and have they thin 
brown curls?” 


A Surprise for the Judge 71 

“My child, they have been in their graves for 
many a day.” 

“But their ghosts,” she said, with sweet impa- 
tience, “you see them, don't you ?” 

“Do you believe in ghosts?” asked the Judge, 
quietly. 

Bethany pursed up her lips. “The air is quite, 
quite full of them, sir. Every night my mamma 
stands by the foot of my bed. Last night she waited 
so patiently until I was undressed. When I was 
all alone in the room she came forward, she sat 
down beside me, she put her hand on my forehead. 
She said, ‘Little daughter, do not be lonely, I am 
with you.' Do not your little girls sit beside you 
at night ?” 

“No, dear,” said the Judge, very gently. 

“How queer,” and Bethany gazed at him as if 
he were a new and strange kind of puzzle. Then 
she said, “Please tell me what they were like. Per- 
haps I will see them.” 

“What an imagination,” murmured the Judge, 
then he said aloud, “Some other time, child.” 

Bethany possessed an extraordinary amount of 
tact for a child of her age, and instead of pursuing 
the subject she looked round the room. The serv- 
ants were wrapping up their gifts preparatory to 
taking them away. Titus was deep in one of the 
volumes of travel his grandfather had given him. 

“Sir,” she said, suddenly turning to the Judge. 
“There are other ghosts besides children and 
mothers.” 

The Judge quietly bowed his head in token of 
acquiescence. He would indulge her humor. 


72 


Princess Sukey 


“There is my mouse ghost,” she said, touching 
her breast; “then there is the ghost of the spotted 
dog with yellow eyes.” 

“Indeed,” remarked the Judge, highly amused 
and interested, “and who was the spotted dog?” 

“He is a ghost,” said the child, earnestly, “but 
he really isn’t dead. He ran away. I can see him 
as plain as I see these candies,” and she tightly shut 
her eyes for a few instants. 

Suddenly opening them, she exclaimed, “There 
he is, running with a bone — quick! catch him. I 
should like to tell him that Bethany still loves him.” 

As she spoke she started dramatically forward 
and extended her hands. 

“W-w-what’s the matter?” asked Titus, lifting his 
head. 

“My spotted dog,” she cried, “my dear spotted 
dog. Take care that he doesn’t bite your clothes. 
He is a very peculiar dog.” 

The servants in alarm thought that a real dog 
had entered the room by the open door and began to 
tumble over each other. 

Higby, on account of his infirmity of tongue, 
tried to open his mouth as little as possible in the 
presence of his employer, but now in his fright he 
called out, “W-w-where is the d-d-dog?” 

“There,” exclaimed the little girl, “right between 
your feet. Do catch him for me, but take care, 
for he hates old men, and might give your coat a 
snap.” 

Higby caught his foot in his highly prized dress- 
ing gown that he was carrying across his arm and 
stumbled against Titus’s heap of books. He sent 


A Surprise for the Judge 73 

them flying ; then, to recover himself he clutched one 
of the maids, who shrieked with fright. 

The Judge carefully examined the child's face. 
Had she called up the spotted dog in a spirit of 
mischief? No, for there were tears in her eyes. 

“You have frightened him away," she said, sadly. 
“He has run outdoors. He may never come back," 
and, sitting down, she buried her little face in her 
hands. 

Higby tumbled out of the room. He believed that 
the spotted dog was there yet, hidden in some corner 
and waiting to bite him. 


CHAPTER VI 
In the Pigeon Loft 

After lunch at half-past one, the Judge went to 
his study for a nap, but he could not sleep. 

The face of the strange child was ever before him. 
He wondered what she was doing. Titus had taken 
her up to the attic to see his old toys and to choose 
some for herself. He would like to watch her ex- 
pression as Titus exhibited his cast-off playthings. 
For her that attic would be a kind of treasure-house. 

How like a mirror her face was, how different 
from his, even from Titus’s, for the boy, young as 
he was, had learned to conceal his emotions; and 
now what was he going to do with her ? 

With a sigh he got up, went into the hall and 
downstairs, put on a fur-lined coat and a fur cap, 
and was just about to go out when the two children 
came down the staircase, Titus not running as usual, 
but soberly walking beside his little companion. 

Bethany's eyes were shining. She had a clown 
doll under one arm, a trumpet under the other, and 
her hands were full of games — toy-dogs and horses, 
a Noah’s ark, and a little cart. 

Titus had a bag slung on his back. 

“G-g-grandfather,” he said, “I suppose it’s all 
right to give these things to the Tingsby children.” 

“Certainly.” 

“H-h-how will I get them there ? Are you going 
to have the sleigh out to-day?” 


In the Pigeon Loft 


75 

“I was not planning to do so. I am going to 
walk.” 

“L-l-let’s take the young one for a drive,” ex- 
claimed Titus. 

Judge Sancroft smiled. Titus ordinarily hated 
to drive. He did not care to sit still for any length 
of time. 

‘‘Very well,” he said at length. 

“I-I-I was just going to take her up to the stable 
to see the pigeons,” said Titus. “S-s-she’s so crazy 
about birds.” 

“Then tell Roblee to harness, and remember not 
to keep me waiting. Don’t take the child outdoors 
in that garb.” 

“I-I-I don’t know what to put on her,” said Titus, 
in a puzzled way. “S-s-she can’t put her old dirty 
coat over that white rig.” 

The Judge opened the hall closet. “Let us see 
what we have here.” 

Titus came forward and, rummaging in drawers 
and on hooks, brought out a small cap. 

“H-h-here, child, try this on.” 

Bethany carefully put her toys on the floor and 
obediently held up her head. 

The cap was several sizes too large, but she did 
not complain, only quietly pushed it to the back of 
her head. 

“Here is a scarf,” said the Judge, “wrap that 
round your neck.” 

Bethany did as she was told, and Titus next 
brought out a short coat of his own. 

“I-i-it’s worlds too large,” he observed, “but it 
will keep her warm.” 


Princess Sukey 


76 

“What about her feet?” inquired the Judge. 

“W-w-well, here’s a big shawl,” stuttered Titus, 
bringing out a traveling rug. “I guess we’ll just 
wrap that round her after she gets in the 
sleigh.” 

“It will cover all deficiencies,” said the Judge, “but 
how will you get her up to the stable in those thin 
slippers ?” 

Titus emerged from the closet and surveyed Beth- 
any with a face flushed from exertion. “I guess I’ll 
have to carry her up. It isn’t far. Once there she’ll 
be warm enough.” 

The Judge smiled and followed slowly as the two 
went down another staircase and opened a door 
leading to a back veranda. From there a plank 
walk led through the garden to the stable. 

Titus manfully shouldered his burden on the 
veranda. 

Bethany clasped her arms about his neck and 
smiled back at the Judge, who caught up to them at 
the stable door. 

There was a furnace in the stable, and the air was 
warm and comfortable, so Titus allowed Bethany to 
slip to the floor. 

“Is this where your horses live?” she asked, shyly, 
looking up at the Judge. 

He nodded his head. 

She continued to look about her. “I wish Mother 
Tingsby had been born a horse; it would be better 
for her.” 

The Judge wrinkled his forehead. Poor child — ■ 
she, too, was grappling with the mystery of the in- 
equality of the human lot. 


In the Pigeon Loft 


77 


“W-w-well,” said Titus, hurrying back from the 
stalls where he had been to speak to Roblee. 
“T-t-the sleigh will be at the door in twenty minutes. 
N-n-now let us go up to see the pigeons,” and he 
led the way toward a flight of steps. 

Bethany tripped behind, occasionally extricating 
a hand from the long sleeve of Titus’s coat to push 
back on her head the capacious cap, which persisted 
in falling over her brows. 

Titus, with Charlie Brown’s help, had had a fine 
place made for his pigeons. His grandfather had 
allowed him to have a part of the hay loft inclosed, 
some extra windows put in, and a floor of matched 
pine laid. 

“There isn’t a better loft in the city,” Charlie had 
said when it was finished. 

Clean, coarse sand had been put on the floor, mov- 
able nest compartments had been placed against the 
wall, and the latest things in feed hoppers and drink- 
ing fountains had been bought for the boy. 

He was full of joy over his new possession, and, 
as Mrs. Blodgett prophesied, most of his leisure time 
was spent here, either alone or in company with 
other boys. 

He did all the work himself, and with a worthy 
pride in the clean home of his birds he stood at the 
top of the steps and eagerly waited to hear what the 
little girl would say. 

Bethany came up the steps, walked through the 
screen door that Titus held open, and looked about 
her. 

It was the middle of the afternoon, and in view 
of the fast approaching darkness the pigeons were 


Princess Sukey 


78 

bestirring themselves in order to have their last 
feed before going to bed. They were all promenad- 
ing over the sanded floor, going from one rack to 
another looking for the choicest grains. 

They made a very pretty picture in the gloaming. 
Titus had not as many varieties as his friend Charlie 
had, but still he had a goodly number. There were 
dark Jacobins, with nodding red hoods surrounding 
their white faces ; pure white Jacobins and buff Jaco- 
bins; clean-shaped, slender magpies; graceful arch- 
angels ; shell-crested, nasal tufted priests ; cobby 
frill-backs with reversed feathering ; swallows ; tum- 
blers; runts; demure nuns in black and white cos- 
tumes with white hoods passing below their side 
curls; and globular cropped poulters. 

Bethany surveyed them in profound silence. The 
Judge, striving to read her face, could make nothing 
of it but confusion. 

Finally he put out a hand to steady her. The 
child was swaying. 

“Do you feel ill ?” he asked, gazing apprehensively 
at her deathly white face. 

She nodded. “Yes, sir, Bethany feels sick.” 

He took her in his arms and carried her down- 
stairs, and the discomforted Titus, after a farewell 
glance at his beautiful birds, followed disconsolately 
behind. He had so hoped that the little girl would 
like them. She had seemed to like Princess Sukey. 
Well, girls were queer. Boys were much more sat- 
isfactory. 

“What is the matter with you?” asked the Judge 
when he had set Bethany on her feet. 

“Sir,” she said, in a whisper and looking up at 


In the Pigeon Loft 


79 

him with an awed face, “Was it heaven or were 
they ghosts ?” 

The Judge tried to do some thinking. It was 
hard for a man of his age to send himself back to 
childhood — and then he had not been an imaginative 
child. But he tried to think of himself as highly 
strung, as having a passion for dumb creatures, as 
being poor and unable to have pets about him, and 
then suddenly to be confronted with a number of 
beautiful specimens of the bird world. 

Yes, he could just faintly picture to himself some- 
thing of Bethany’s ecstasy. The child had been over- 
come. 

“Don’t you want to go in the house and lie 
down ?” he asked, gazing kindly at her white face. 

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. The Judge carried her 
along the plank walk, while Titus lounged slowly 
behind. 

“Where is Mrs. Blodgett?” asked the Judge of a 
maid when they entered the lower hall. 

“Gone out, sir.” 

“Then you take care of this little girl while I am 
away.” 

Bethany made no protest. The girl smiled kindly 
and put out a hand, and the child went quietly with 
her. 

“Let her lie down and have a sleep,” said the 
Judge, “she is tired.” 

Then he turned. “Well, boy, what are you for — 
remaining at home or going with me?” 

Titus looked at his grandfather. It was Christ- 
mas. Day, and he ought to keep with him. “I’ll go 
with you, sir,” he said, brightening up. 


8o 


Princess Sukey 


The Judge smiled, then together they went up- 
stairs and out the big hall door down to the waiting 
sleigh. 

Higby carried out the toys for the Tingsby chil- 
dren and tucked them under the fur robes. 

It did not take long for the Judge’s fast horses 
to reach River Street. 

The street was very quiet. It was a cold day, 
and the people were mostly celebrating their Christ- 
mas indoors. 

“P-p-pretty poor pickings, I guess, some of them 
have,” stuttered Titus, compassionately, and his 
grandfather agreed with him. 

Mrs. Tingsby’s house was as gray and dingy out- 
side by daylight as it had been by electric light the 
day before, and it was apparently cold and uninhab- 
ited. No children’s faces appeared at the windows, 
no cheerful gleam of firelight shone from between 
the threadbare curtains. 

Titus jumped out and pounded on the door. After 
a long time, and a liberal application of both fists, 
Mrs. Tingsby herself came. 

She gave them a most joyful welcome. 

“Come in ! Come in !” she screamed in her excite- 
ment, “come in, gentlemen, come in an’ come down 
to where we’re celebratin’, poor as we be. No, no — 
not there,” as the Judge mechanically turned toward 
the door of the small room in which they had sat 
the evening before. “Here, sir, down here in the 
cellar,” and she trotted before him to a dark stair- 
way, and with alarming celerity disappeared in the 
depths of a basement, while the Judge and Titus felt 
their way down after her. 


In the Pigeon Loft 


8i 


‘‘Here, here,” she called, opening a door and sud- 
denly allowing a streak of light to dart into the 
almost pitch-dark hall, “here we be — merry as cop- 
persmiths after our good dinner.” 

“S-s-seems to me I’d rather be some other kind of 
a smith,” grumbled Titus to himself, wrinkling his 
nose in the goose-laden atmosphere as he followed 
her, for he was preceding his grandfather, with the 
charitable intention of breaking his fall if he had 
one. 

“Merry, merry — O ! so merry,” repeated the little 
woman. “Here we be — all the family.” 

Titus stood aside and blinked his eyes, while the 
Judge walked by him. 

“For warmth, sir, an’ comfort, an' good times, 
we’re all in the kitchen,” said Mrs. Tingsby. “Gen- 
Tmen,” and she turned to her boarders with a ridic- 
ulous little bow, “this is the jedge that tooked 
Bethany. Jedge, here be my children,” and she indi- 
cated half a dozen poorly dressed but bright looking 
children who got up from the floor and from cracker 
boxes to make their best bow to the company. 

“Yes, we be all here,” exclaimed Mrs. Tingsby, 
a-huggin’ the fire, “which is a good one if I does say 
so myself. There’s Harry Ray, the express boy, 
Harry an’ his cough, which I’m glad to say is a mite 
better owin’ to peppermint tea or his half holiday, 
I don’t know which; Matthew Jones an’ his poor 
eyes, but he aint grumblin’, because it’s Christmas ; 
an’ old man Fanley, glad to rest his weary legs from 
parcel-carryin’ — aint you, Fanley. An’ Barry Maf- 
ferty, which is a temp’rary boarder.” 

The Judge looked round him. From the bottom 


82 


Princess Sukey 


of his heart he pitied them. At first sight it seemed 
to him the height of misery to be crouching round 
a medium-sized fire, breathing an atmosphere so 
redolent of goose, with no comfortable seats; and 
yet in a few minutes he modified his opinion. 

Two of the few chairs in the kitchen had been 
given to him and to Titus. As they sat in the shabby 
but clean kitchen he reflected that it was warm, that 
these people all looked contented, that with their 
dingy clothes they would certainly not be happy in 
rooms like his own. 

“It is very comfortable here,” he said, drawing off 
his gloves and rubbing his hands, “very comfort- 
able after the cold outside.” 

“If only the landlords would give the poor better 
houses,” he continued, reflecting, “they would not 
be so uncomfortable. Really, they are spared some 
of the worries of life that we better off ones have 
to endure.” 

But he must listen to Mrs. Tingsby. “We’ve had 
such a good Christmas,” she was exclaiming, “such 
a good one. Look-a-here, an’ here,” and she took 
from one child a tiny doll, from another a bag of 
candy, from another a whistle, and proudly exhibited 
them. 

Needless to say, the presents were from the board- 
ers, who somewhat sheepishly averted their faces 
while she was praising their generosity to the 
Judge. 

He was greatly touched. They were so pitiful, 
so insignificant, these little presents, and yet how 
they had pleased the recipients. 

“An’ now,” called Mrs. Tingsby, “may I be for- 


In the Pigeon Loft 83 

given for not havin' put her first — how is that 
blessed child?" 

The Judge's lips formed the words, “Very well." 

“Aint she a darlin' ! O, you’ll get to love her like 
your own flesh an’ blood." 

“I am sorry that she is not a boy," vociferated 
the Judge; “a boy would have been more of a com- 
panion for my grandson." 

“Yes, sir — yes, sir," said Mrs. Tingsby, beaming 
on him, “a boy an' a girl — just a nice family. I 
always did despise two boys or two girls for a set 
piece." 

“You tell her," said the Judge, with a wave of his 
hand toward his grandson. 

Titus approached his lips somewhat nearer to the 
little woman's ear than they were. “M-m-my grand- 
father says he is sorry the girl is not a boy." 

“Boy!" repeated Mrs. Tingsby, “O, yes, she 
should have been a boy. They do get on easier 
than girls, but we can't change her now, you 
know." 

The semicircle of boarders, children, and the 
Judge could not but agree with this statement, and 
she looked approvingly round at them. 

“Tell her that even though we do not keep the 
child, we shall still be interested in her," said the 
Judge. 

Titus, in slight embarrassment, again cried in her 
ear, “Maybe we can get her a good home some- 
where else." 

“Good home !" replied Mrs. Tingsby, “yes, yes, I 
know — the Lord will bless you for that." 

“I guess your mamma is pretty deaf to-day, isn’t 


84 Princess Sukey 

she?” asked Titus, patiently, of one of the older 
children. 

The children were all staring rather disdainfully 
at him and his grandfather. They did not lack 
smartness, and they had jumped to the conclusion 
that the Judge’s visit meant that he was tired of 
Bethany and wanted to return her. 

‘Til make her hear,” said the eldest girl, grimly, 
and she applied her lips to her parent’s ear, and, 
without making a steam whistle of herself, as poor 
Titus did, she said, in a low, blood-curdling tone, 
“The gemman is tired of Bethany — wants to return 
her like a parcel sent on approbation.” 

Mrs. Tingsby, who had more of the milk of 
human kindness than this particular one of her 
offspring, turned to the Judge with an amazed, 
reproachful air. “Be that true, sir?” 

“No,” said the Judge, stoutly, “it isn’t.” 

Immediately there ensued an altercation between 
him and the smart girl. To his own great confusion 
and astonishment, he, Judge Sancroft, leading citi- 
zen of Riverport, actually found himself bandying 
words with a saucy little shopgirl, for such she ap- 
peared to be — and she got the better of him. 

At last he appealed to the boarders. “Can’t some 
of you explain how matters are? The child is a 
charming little creature. I have no wish to bring 
her back. I will see that she is comfortably placed.” 

The new temporary boarder, or visitor, Barry 
Mafferty, suddenly began to laugh. The old board- 
ers, at the entrance of the Judge, had been suddenly 
stricken with bashfulness. This poorly dressed, 
brown-faced man of middle age had alone preserved 


In the Pigeon Loft 85 

his composure. After a slight bow he had taken an 
unlighted cigarette from his mouth, had calmly 
looked the Judge over, from his white head to his 
black overshoes, had bestowed a slight glance of ad- 
miration on the half-open, fur-lined coat, and had 
then again directed his attention to the red-hot bars 
of the grate in front of the old-fashioned cooking- 
stove. 

Now, as if irresistibly amused by the passage-at- 
arms between the gentleman and the flippant child 
of poverty, he did not try to conceal his amusement. 

The Judge turned to him. 

“Don’t worry yourself, sir,” said Mafferty, easily, 
“things will all come out right. Our hostess is a 
good sort.” 

The Judge stared. Who was this man ? 

“Broken down gentleman,” said Mafferty, still 
more easily; “lot’s of time to study human nature. 
I have seen the child you took. I advise you to hold 
on to her if you value a nice child. She belongs to 
a different rank in society from these — ” and he 
raised his hand comprehensively at the Tingsby 
children. 

The smart girl immediately turned her attention 
upon him. 

“Easy now, easy,” he said, coolly, nodding his 
really fine-featured head at her. “Easy, or you will 
upset your basket of china.” 

“China,” she cried, in a fine, thin voice, curiously 
like her mother’s, “what do you know of china, 
you low-down, gutter-raggy, broken-weazled, shilly- 
shally—” 

Mafferty began to laugh again, and such is the 


86 


Princess Sukey 


power of a long drawn-out. hearty, sustained peal of 
laughter in which there is nothing nervous, nothing 
satirical, nothing to wound, that one by one his 
listeners began to join him. 

The Judge laughed, Titus laughed, the boarders 
giggled, the children shrieked, and even Mrs. Tings- 
by, though she had not heard a word of what was 
said, laughed with the best of them, and was soon 
wiping the tears from her eyes. 

“I don’t know what’s amusin’ you,” she gasped, 
convulsively, “but it must be somethin’ powerful 
funny.” 

At this Mafferty redoubled his own merriment, 
and presently the uproar became so loud that the 
Judge rose. He really could not take part in this 
any longer, though he was still laughing himself. 

Mafferty paid no attention to him. His eye was 
on the smart girl. She alone of all the children had 
not once allowed a crease of amusement to form 
itself on her face. She was stubborn, disagreeable, 
even ugly. 

“Laugh, you goose, laugh,” he suddenly cried, 
stopping short and snapping his fingers within an 
inch of her nose. “If you don’t learn to laugh the 
devil will catch you. You can’t go through life kick- 
ing at Providence and have any sort of a good time.” 

The girl drew herself back and began an hysteri- 
cal giggle. 

“Not bad to start with,” said the man, compla- 
cently. “I’ll teach you to laugh better than that, 
though, you insolent wisp of humanity.” 

The Judge again stared at him. He was curi- 
ously attracted by this man. 


In the Pigeon Loft 87 

“Have you been on the stage ?” he asked, sud- 
denly. 

“Yes, sir,” said Mafferty, good-humoredly, “the 
stage of the world. First as a physician, then down, 
down through various stages of trampdom. Great 
at deceivin' farmers’ wives. Now imposing on soci- 
ety as proprietor of a cat farm.” 

“O, you are out at Bobbety’s Island?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“How can you leave your cats?” 

“My wife is there, sir. I’ve come up to the city 
to spend Christmas.” 

“What about your wife?” 

“O, sir, women can enjoy the pleasures of soli- 
tude better than men, and, then, she is fond of the 
cats.” 

The Judge looked disapprovingly at him, then 
saying, “We must go,” he made a sign of farewell 
to Mrs. Tingsby. 

“Beat him,” said Mafferty, nodding at Titus, “if 
he doesn’t work. Don’t let him idle if you half kill 
him. The devil’s real name is ‘Loafer.’ ” 

The Judge nodded significantly, and all the board- 
ers and children stood up as he left the kitchen. 

“By the way,” he said, turning suddenly, “the 
little girl sent some toys to you children.” 

“Hooray!” cried the boys and girls, who were 
still hilarious — that is, all but the eldest, smart girl. 
Then they pressed out of the kitchen after Titus, 
who volunteered to show them where the toys were. 

The Judge stood looking at Mrs. Tingsby. He 
was sorry for her. She did not quite take in the 
situation of affairs, and was troubled and anxious. 


88 Princess Sukey 

He turned to Mafferty as the one who would best 
understand him. 

“Explain to her, will you?” he said. “I have no 
intention of again placing the child on her hands. 
I cannot keep her myself, as she is not a boy, but I 
shall find a suitable home for her.” 

“Yes, I will,” said the man, then he put out a 
hand and touched the Judge's coat almost lovingly. 
“I once had a fur-lined coat. I suppose you haven't 
another ?” 

“Yes, I have,” said the Judge, promptly, “too 
small for me — just your fit.” 

Mafferty smiled. He knew he would get it. The 
Judge gave a great sigh of relief as he passed up 
the dark staircase. He had grown strangely sensi- 
tive this Christmas season. It had seemed to him 
that he could not go away comfortably and leave this 
man Mafferty without doing something for him. 
True, he had not half the respect for him that he 
had for the honest expressman, the furrier, and the 
parcel-carrier standing modestly in the background. 
Those men would have died rather than beg from 
him. They were workers, and Mafferty had been, 
and evidently still was, a kind of drone. Yet the 
cat-man was of the Judge's class. They understood 
each other’s Shibboleth, and the rich man's heart 
was full of pity as he went out to the frosty 
street. 

Roblee had sprung out of his sleigh and had gone 
to the horses' heads. 

There was such a screaming and pulling from the 
young Tingsbys, who were dragging at the toys and 
bearing them to the house, that he was afraid of a 


In the Pigeon Loft 89 

runaway. Titus, scarcely less excited than the poor 
children, was in the thickest of the fun. 

“Come! Comer said the Judge, “stop this tu- 
mult/’ and he waved his hand. 

Titus hurried the shrieking crew into the house 
and sprang in beside his grandfather. 

“Home, Roblee,” said the Judge, and in a few 
minutes they were before the big stone house 011 
Grand Avenue. 

They were met by a disturbed household. Higby, 
after throwing open the door, stammered and 
walked backward, and stamped, and tried to ejacu- 
late something, which was drowned by the exclama- 
tions of the maidservants, who had assembled in the 
hall. Foremost among them was Betty, the girl into 
whose care the Judge had put little Bethany. 

Her face was as white as death, and she was 
wringing her hands. Presently the Judge made out 
her exclamation, “Child lost!” 

“The little girl, do you mean ?” he asked, sternly. 

“Yes, sir; O! yes, sir.” 

“When?” 

“Just after you left, sir.” 

“Where were you?” 

“In my own room. I had laid her on the bed to 
go to sleep — she went off like that, sir,” and she 
helplessly extended her arms. 

“Were you in your room when she disappeared ?” 

“No, sir; O ! no, sir. I was next door to Jennie’s 
room. I just went in to borrow a fine needle.” 

“And when you came back the child was gone?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Have you searched the house ?” 


90 


Princess Sukey 


“Every corner, sir.” 

“Did you run out in the street?” 

“Yes, sir; we've been searching the neighbor- 
hood for an hour. We were just waiting now till 
you came.” 

The Judge stood stock still in the midst of his 
apprehensive domestics. Had the little stranger 
run home? 

Probably, and yet — he reflected for a minute, his 
face heavy with what the young lawyers of River- 
port were pleased to call his “judicial frown.” 

Suddenly he lifted up his head. “Have you 
searched the stable?” 

“The stable — no, sir,” ejaculated poor Betty. 

“Come with me, Titus,” said the Judge, “that 
child is a peculiar one. I do not think that she has 
run away.” 



. 





Go tell the servants that she is found,” said the Judge 
to Titus. 



CHAPTER VII 
Birds of Heaven 

The Judge walked calmly out through the house 
to the garden and through the garden to the stable. 

Arrived in the stable, he called to Roblee, who 
was unharnessing, to turn on all the electric lights 
above and below. Then he and Titus went up to the 
pigeon loft. 

The Judge pushed open the screen door. It was 
just as he had thought. On a little stool by the 
door sat Bethany sound asleep, a white owl pigeon 
in her lap, another on her head. Her own head was 
thrown back against the wall, one hand resting 
caressingly on the beautiful creature in her lap. 

The owls opened wide their large eyes and gazed 
at the Judge and Titus in mild surprise. Other 
pigeons eyed them from nest boxes and perches. 
They were all very tame, but not all would have 
allowed Bethany to handle them as did the gentle 
owls. 

“Go tell the servants that she is found,” said the 
Judge to Titus. 

The boy rushed down the steps, and the Judge 
bent over Bethany. She had no wrap on, and the 
pigeon loft was not kept very warm. 

He looked at a thermometer over her head — fifty 
degrees. 

“Child,” he said, gently shaking her, “wake up.” 


92 


Princess Sukey 


She drowsily opened her eyes and murmured, 
“Birds of heaven.” 

The Judge shook her again. “Come! Come! 
Don’t you want some Christmas dinner ?” 

She staggered to her little feet. “O ! is it you, Mr. 
Judge ! I was dreaming of you and the birds.” 

The Judge smiled, took her hand, and conducted 
her down the steps, then carried her in the house. 
Upon arriving inside they found Mrs. Blodgett, who 
had just come from her midday Christmas dinner, 
eaten at her daughter’s. She had been overwhelm- 
ing the unfortunate Betty with reproaches. If she, 
Mrs. Blodgett, had been at home the child would 
not have been allowed to steal away and give every- 
one such an upsetting — just like a careless, giddy 
girl, and she swept away the little child to make her 
toilet for dinner. 

From her store of clothes she managed to unearth 
another dress of the grandchild Mary Ann’s, for 
Bethany appeared at the dinner table in pale blue. 

Very pretty she looked as she came gently into 
the dining room and allowed old Higby to lift her 
to a seat beside the Judge. 

The table was decorated with holly and red rib- 
bons and a miniature Christmas tree. 

Bethany’s eyes shone brightly. At last she was 
wide awake, having had sleep enough to last her for 
some time. 

She said nothing, but her appreciation of her gay 
and brilliant surroundings was so intense that, to 
the secret amusement of the Judge and Titus, she 
made up her mind to have a participator — some one 
who was not used to this style of living. Instead of 


Birds of Heaven 


93 


waiting for the end of the meal she put up her hand 
at once, drew out the ghost of the dead mouse, and 
placed him behind a sprig of holly. All through the 
meal, from soup to fruit, mousie had his share of 
what was going. Not a course did he miss, and it 
was a very stuffed and overcome ghost that the child 
finally wrapped in her handkerchief when they left 
the table. 

The big parlor was lighted, the piano was open, 
and picture books and games were laid out, but in 
some way or other the trio, after dinner, drifted to 
the Judge’s study. There on the hearthrug by the 
fire, with Princess Sukey, the two children, or, 
rather, the boy and the child, sat and talked, while 
the Judge listened quietly from his armchair. Part 
of the time Titus was shouting with laughter. In 
some marvelous way he had got over all his bash- 
fulness of the morning. Bethany was such a little 
girl that it did not seem worth while to be afraid 
of her, and then he was in honor bound to tell her 
about their visit to the Tingsbys. 

Airy, she said, was the name of the eldest girl. 
Airy, nickname for Mary, then came Annie, Rodd, 
Goldie, Gibb, and Dobbie. 

“W-w-what’s Dobbie?” inquired Titus, “boy or 
girl?” 

“Why, boy, of course,” responded Bethany, 
“didn’t you see him ?” 

“Y-y-yes, I saw a baby sitting on the floor, but 
I didn’t know which name belonged to him.” 

“Then you had to think a name to him,” said 
Bethany, dreamily. 

“T-t-think a name — what’s that?” 


94 


Princess Sukey 


“Why, you know that everything has a name/’ 
said the little girl, staring at him wonderingly. 
“There isn’t any 'it’ about anything. If you don’t 
know the name, you just give one.” 

“O-o-of course, everything has a name,” said the 
boy, stoutly, “but if I don’t know it I don’t give 
one. I wait till I find out.” 

“I don’t,” she replied, shaking her head. “I give 
a name to everything.” 

“Did you give me a name before you heard 
mine ?” 

“Of course,” she replied, with dignity. 

“W-w-what name did you give me?” 

“You won’t be cross?” she said, surveying him 
doubtfully. 

“C-c-certainly not.” 

“I gave you the name of Blackie,” she said, with 
a glance up at his dark head. 

Titus burst into a fit of laughter. “Y-y-you did 
that last night when you were so sleepy?” 

Bethany nodded her head. “I wasn’t too sleepy 
to think.” 

“A-a-and now — what do you give me now?” 

“I give you your own name,” she said, patiently, 
“but the other one is in the top of my mind. I 
could call it down if I wanted to.” 

“W-w-would you give this hearthrug a name?” 
asked the boy, teasingly. 

She caressingly passed a hand over the red velvet 
pile. “Yes, boy, I call this rug Red Heart.” 

Titus did not laugh this time. He stared curi- 
ously and silently at her. 

The Judge interposed a quiet question. “Did you 


Birds of Heaven 


95 

think me a name before you knew my real one, little 
girl?” 

“Yes, sir,” she said, shyly, turning round to face 
him. 

“What was it?” 

“I called you Mr. White Tree because your white 
hair is so soft, just like the blossoms on a little tree 
in the flower shop on Broadway.” 

“Do you call me by that name, now?” pursued the 
Judge, curiously. 

“No, sir.” 

“What do you call me ?” 

She hung her head and twisted her fingers to- 
gether. “Bethany would rather not speak that name 
out loud,” she said, in a low voice. 

“It isn’t Judge Sancroft, then,” ventured her 
senior, kindly. 

She shook her head. 

“W-w-whisper it,” proposed Titus, bluntly. “I’ve 
seen girls whisper things when they would not speak 
them out.” 

She mumbled something to herself that the boy 
could not hear. 

“G-g-go say it in his ear,” stuttered Titus, impa- 
tiently. 

Bethany looked shyly at the Judge. 

“Come, if you want to,” he said, with a smile. 

She edged up to him step by step. “It’s Daddy 
Grandpa,” she whispered in his ear. 

“Why Daddy Grandpa ?” he whispered back. 

“ ’Cause Bethany hasn’t any daddy and she hasn’t 
any grandpa, and she likes to call you that.” 

The Judge had noticed before that in moments of 


Princess Sukey 


9 6 

great embarrassment Bethany often spoke of herself 
in the third person, therefore he hastened to reassure 
her. 

“You may call me that name all the time, dear 
child, if it will be any comfort to you.” 

A strange glow came over her face, apart from 
the glow of the firelight. Poor little lonely heart, 
craving for natural relationship and sympathy ! 
However, she had been schooled to restrain emotion, 
and with a simple “Thank you, sir,” she went back 
to the hearthrug. 

“S-s-sir,” remarked Titus, “it’s getting pretty hot 
here, and that pigeon is just roasting herself.” 

The Judge wrinkled his eyebrows. “It is most 
unfortunate that that bird has contracted the habit 
of sitting by the fire — most abnormal, most abnor- 
mal. Open the window and see whether she will go 
out on the balcony.” 

Bethany, who had been sitting as close as possible 
to Sukey’s basket, silently adoring her, moved back, 
and Titus got up and went to a window. 

“C-c-come, Sukey.” 

The pigeon understood him perfectly well, and, 
stepping out of her basket, she walked round and 
round in a state of great indignation. “Rookety 
cahoo ! rookety cahoo !” 

“Let her alone, boy,” said the Judge, “she won’t 
go out to-night, it is too cold. If we insist, she will 
stand outside and tap on the window until our nerves 
are upset. There, close the window. You have 
cooled the room. We will keep doing that, in order 
that we may not suffer from the heat.” 

Titus concealed a smile as he looked out into the 


Birds of Heaven 


9 7 


cold night. What a change had come over his grand- 
father. Who would have imagined last Christmas 
that this Christmas he would have a pet pigeon in 
his study? 

“And now you had better go to bed, children,” 
said the Judge, as the big hall clock struck ten. 
“Have you had a nice Christmas, little girl ?” 

Bethany went and stood beside his armchair. 
“Sir, it is the best Christmas I ever had. I shall 
tell my mamma about it to-night.” 

The Judge said nothing, but held out a hand to 
her. 

She clasped his large fingers tightly in her tiny 
ones. “Good-night, sir — may I say the name?” 

“O, yes — decidedly.” 

“Daddy Grandpa,” she murmured, “good-night, 
Daddy Grandpa. Now Bethany is like other little 
girls. She isn’t all alone in the world, like a poor 
stray cat.” 

The Judge stared dreamily into the fire. What 
a strange child! He must take the greatest pains 
to find a home suitable for her in every respect. 


CHAPTER VIII 
To Adopt or Not to Adopt 

“Are you going out?” asked Bethany, wistfully, 
of the Judge the next morning. 

She had breakfasted with the Judge. She had 
disappeared afterward to visit the pigeon loft with 
Titus, and then when he left the house to call on his 
friend Charlie she had gone to the Judge’s study to 
play with Sukey. Now she stood regretfully watch- 
ing him button on his overcoat. 

“Yes, I am,” he replied. “I have a call to make ; 
would you like to go with me?” he asked, as an 
afterthought. 

Her little face beamed. That was just what she 
wanted. 

“But you haven’t any wraps,” said the Judge. 
“However, I can bundle you up in something, and 
Roblee will drive us to Furst Brothers. There we 
will find everything under one roof. Here you are,” 
and, laughing like a boy, he smothered her up in the 
fur coat that he intended to give Mafferty and car- 
ried her out to the sleigh. 

A quiet-living man, a man of simple pleasures, 
one who rarely experienced new sensations, the trip 
through Furst Brothers’ establishment was as full 
of interest to the Judge as a voyage of exploration 
would have been to another man. 

First they visited the fur department, where Beth- 


To Adopt or Not to Adopt 99 

any stood in rapt silence, with shining eyes which 
she sometimes tightly closed, and then suddenly 
opened to make sure that it was not all a dream, 
while an obsequious shopwoman tried on one little 
coat after another. 

The Judge’s choice finally fell on a white one with 
a cap to match, and Bethany was clad in it. The 
Judge directed the woman to let the coat hang open, 
as the store was very warm. The little cap was put 
on, however, and, tightly holding his hand and 
occasionally glancing down to smooth the pretty blue 
satin lining, Bethany walked as if in a trance to the 
shoe department. 

There she was fitted with several pairs of shoes 
and slippers. Finally rubbers were slipped on and 
a pair of warm, black, woolen gaiters buttoned over 
them. Then gloves were chosen, and back they 
went to the fur department to buy a little muff which 
the Judge had forgotten. 

“As for dresses and undergarments,” he said to 
Bethany, “Mrs. Blodgett must bring you here. Now 
we will go to see my friend.” 

When they were again seated in the sleigh, and 
Bethany, with a bright pink spot on each cheek, sat 
holding her hands tightly clasped in her muff, the 
Judge said, “Did you. ever hear of Mrs. Tom Ever- 
est while you were living on River Street?” 

The child shook her head. 

“No; you would not. Well, I must tell you that 
she is a very charming and philanthropic young 
woman, the granddaughter of a once eminent jurist 
of this city.” 

Bethany had very little idea of what her compan- 

LofC. 


IOO 


Princess Sukey 


ion meant, but she enjoyed being talked to as if she 
were a young lady, and she gravely bent her head 
and said, “Yes, sir.” 

“Her grandfather was a much older man than I 
am, but I well remember him and his admirable wife, 
now also dead. Unfortunately, some time after his 
death the family lost their money and went to River 
Street to live. This girl Berty, or, rather, Mrs. 
Tom Everest, became greatly interested in the poor 
people about her, and when she married she per- 
suaded her husband to come and live with her in- 
stead of moving to another part of the city. They 
seem to be quite happy, and are doing much good. 
I am going to see her to ask if she knows of any 
nice family where you would have young children to 
play with and be kindly treated.” 

“Me, sir?” ejaculated Bethany, faintly. 

“Yes; my house is not a suitable place for you. 
You see, I thought you were a boy when I brought 
you home.” 

“A boy, sir?” said Bethany, still more faintly. 
“O, yes, I remember.” 

“I wanted a companion for my grandson.” 

“I like boys, sir,” murmured the little girl, 
weakly. 

The Judge looked sharply, down at her. The 
lovely color had faded from her face. Large tears 
were rolling down her cheeks. 

“You have surely not got attached to us in this 
short time,” he said, wonderingly. 

“It doesn’t take much to keep me, sir,” said Beth- 
any, desperately. “I’ve been trying not to eat too 
much — and mousie could get on with less. And I 


To Adopt or Not to Adopt ioi 

can work, sir. Lots of times I've scrubbed down the 
stairs for Mrs. Tingsby.” 

The Judge made some kind of a noise in his 
throat and looked over the shoulder farthest away 
from Bethany. 

They were gliding swiftly through Broadway. 
O ! the exquisite, clear, cold air and the lovely sun- 
shine. How good it was to be alive, even if one 
were sixty-two; and he had just been stabbing this 
faithful little heart beside him. But, pshaw! Non- 
sense! A child of seven formed no strong attach- 
ments in a day. If he sent her away she would 
cling as closely to a kind stranger as she now ap- 
parently did to him. 

But Bethany was talking, very weakly and brok- 
enly, but still talking, and he must listen. 

“Sir,” she murmured, “I could take care of the 
birds — those beautiful birds, and if there was not 
room in the house I could sleep in that lovely loft. 
I would not be nervous and cry, or make any noise 
to disturb the horses. Only once in a while, when 
you were out, I would like to creep in the house to 
see that little saint with the hood on.” 

The little saint was Sukey, and the Judge smiled. 

“Which do you love the best?” he said, sharply, 
“me and my grandson or the pigeons ?” 

“The pigeons, sir,” she said, simply. “But before 
my mamma died she said, ‘Bethany, when you grow 
up you will love human beings better than the ani- 
mals and the birds.' ” 

“Then why did you not stay at home with the 
birds this morning instead of coming with me? You 
wanted to come, didn't you ?” 


102 


Princess Sukey 


“Yes, sir. I don’t know what made me want to 
come, but when I heard you putting on your coat I 
left the lovely bird and ran in the hall. It seemed 
as if I would be lonely without you.” 

The Judge smiled, a somewhat puzzled smile, and 
did not speak until Roblee drew up in front of a 
large, old-fashioned, smartly painted house on River 
Street, and said, “Mrs. Everest’s, sir.” 

The Judge started, then he turned to Bethany. 
“Do you want to come in with me ?” 

“I-I don’t just feel like it, sir,” she said, hesitat- 
ingly, and the Judge saw that her cast-down face 
was again wet with tears. 

“I will not be long,” he said, kindly, and he rang 
the bell. 

“Yes, Mrs. Everest was at home,” a trim little 
maidservant informed him, and she ushered him into 
a large room on the ground floor. 

The painted floor of the room had only one rug, 
on which a fat baby was sprawling. A wire screen 
before a blazing fire kept in sparks and prevented 
the possibility of baby’s hands being burnt, or, pos- 
sibly, baby’s precious body, for he was alone for 
the moment. 

Between partly open sliding doors the Judge saw 
in a second large room an enormous Christmas tree 
loaded with gifts. 

The air of the house was sweet and wholesome. 
Looking beyond the Christmas tree, and through 
long windows which appeared to be old-fashioned 
ones made larger, the Judge had a magnificent view 
of the river. 

“It is possible to be comfortable even on River 


To Adopt or Not to Adopt 103 

Street,” he said, standing with his back to the fire 
and obligingly giving one foot to the baby, who was 
begging frantically for it. 

“Good morning, good morning,” said a sudden 
gay voice, and a half-girlish, half-womanly figure 
entered the room and took both the Judge’s out- 
stretched hands in her own. “The very best of 
Christmas blessings on you!” 

“And on you,” he said, heartily, “for you deserve 
them if anyone does.” 

“Hush, hush,” she protested, blushingly, then mo- 
tioning him to the most comfortable of the many 
comfortable chairs in the room she took the roly- 
poly baby on her lap. 

“What do you think of Tom, junior? Isn’t he 
immense? You naughty baby, your mouth is black 
again. He begs like a little dog for everybody’s 
feet — licks the blacking off. Just imagine! Now, 
Judge, do you think there is anything servile about 
me or Tom?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Well, this baby is an absolute lackey. Cringes 
and crawls to everyone — hasn’t the spirit of a mouse. 
Fancy liking blacking and coal. You young rogue !” 
and she shook him till the baby laughed in glee. 

“He is a fine child,” said the Judge, “the picture 
of health. And now I must not take up your time, 
for I know you are a very busy person. You may 
know, or may not know, that for some time I have 
been looking for an orphan boy to adopt.” 

Mrs. Everest nodded her pretty black head. “Yes, 
I know.” 

“I didn’t apply to you,” said her caller, “because 


104 Princess Sukey 

I know your tender heart. You occupy yourself 
mostly with the very poor. I wanted a boy of some 
respectability.” 

“Exactly. Baby, stop licking my belt. Did you 
ever see such a child ?” 

“On Christmas Eve, just two days ago,” contin- 
ued the Judge, “I happened to stumble on a child 
that I thought was a boy, but perhaps you know 
about it,” for Mrs. Everest was laughing heartily. 

“O, yes; River Street knows what River Street 
does.” 

“Then I can omit that part. You know Mrs. 
Tingsby?” 

“O, yes — know her and esteem her. She is a 
little shy of me because she is so respectable and 
so self-supporting. She doesn’t want me to help 
her. She thinks she would lose prestige as a board- 
ing-house keeper. Mafferty — Barry Mafferty, who 
runs our cat farm — was in last evening. He gave a 
glowing account of your visit to Mrs. Tingsby. I 
wish you could hear the nice things he says about 
you.” 

“Has he gone back to his farm?” asked the 
Judge. 

“Yes, we persuaded him to go this morning. He 
gets terribly bored on the Island, and comes up 
occasionally to stay for a day or two at Mrs. Tings- 
by’s. Then Tom and I have to watch him to see 
that he does not get into the saloons.” 

“I promised him a fur coat,” said the Judge. 

“So he told me. If you leave it here I will see 
that he gets it.” 

“Well,” said the Judge, “to come back to my 


To Adopt or Not to Adopt 105 

affair. I don’t want to keep this little girl. I want 
to find a good home for her, where her sensitive 
nature will be taken into account. I thought per- 
haps you would know of such a home.” 

“Does she want to leave you?” asked Mrs. Ever- 
est, quickly. 

“Well, no,” said the Judge, honestly, “I don’t 
think she does, neither did she want to leave Mrs. 
Tingsby to come to me. Children are fickle.” 

The pretty girl-woman shook her head. “Mrs. 
Tingsby’s was different. The child had been 
brought up to believe that some day she would know 
something better. You should have seen her mother. 
She was an exquisite creature. Pale, and cold, and 
quiet, and shy, and aristocratic, and making friends 
only with Mrs. Tingsby. I, in vain, tried to get 
acquainted with her.” 

“Did you know that Mrs. Tingsby allowed the 
child to work at making paper boxes?” asked the 
Judge. 

“No,” said Mrs. Everest, quickly. “She would 
not dare to have that get to my ears. Do you know 
this to be true?” 

“Yes; the child was staggering home when I 
found her.” 

Mrs. Everest clasped her baby closer to her. “O, 
these poor people, aren’t they extraordinary! Now, 
that woman’s false pride won’t allow me to help her, 
and yet she lets this poor child work — and her own, 
too, I daresay, for she would not require of one what 
she would not require of the others.” 

“I understood her to say that they all had work of 
some kind through the Christmas holidays. Can 


106 Princess Sukey 

you in any way get at the employers of this child 
labor ?” 

“I shall make it my business to do so,” said Mrs. 
Everest, warmly. “I shall go to see Mrs. Tingsby 
to-day and question her.” 

“If you want money for prosecution, call on me,” 
said the Judge. 

“Thank you, I will. Well, what are you going 
to do about the little girl if you cannot find a home ? 
Don’t send her back to Mrs. Tingsby’s. Give her to 
me, rather.” 

“This would be a charming place for her,” said 
the Judge, looking about him. “I never thought of 
that. I don’t know anyone I would rather give the 
child to than to you.” 

“I should be delighted to have her,” said Mrs. 
Everest, heartily, “and would try to make her 
happy ; but in taking her I would not have you sup- 
pose for one single instant that I think you are not 
a very suitable and proper person to have charge of 
her. Do you know, I have often wondered why you 
have not done more active charitable work. You 
are so eminently qualified for it, and you have al- 
ways been so generous and so sympathetic in your 
donations, that we all know your heart is with 
us.” 

The Judge sighed. “I have had a very busy life, 
and then my troubles have made me egotistical. 
May I bring the little girl in for you to see her?” 

“Certainly, or let me ring. Daisy will get her.” 

The happy-faced little maid, upon being in- 
structed, quickly ran downstairs and returned with 
Bethany. 


To Adopt or Not to Adopt 107 

Mrs. Everest put down the baby and went to meet 
her. “How do you do, dear?” she said, kissing her. 
Then, drawing her to the fire, she took off her gloves 
and rubbed her fingers. 

“Why, you are quite cold,” she said ; “quite cold, 
and you look forlorn.” 

She took off the fur cap, and for a few minutes 
silently stroked Bethany’s pale, unhappy cheeks. 
Then she whispered, “What is the matter, dar- 
ling?” 

Not since her mother’s death had a lady, a genu- 
ine lady, put her arm round the shrinking, sensitive 
child and whispered to her in tones sweet and clear. 
Something in Bethany’s heart responded. She could 
not speak, but she silently returned the pressure of 
Mrs. Everest’s hands and gazed into her eyes in 
dumb misery. 

The Judge, in the meantime, got up, walked about 
the room in some embarrassment, and tried to avoid 
the overtures of the too-friendly baby, who was 
creeping briskly after him, gurgling in his throat, 
and begging for permission to play with his feet. 

“What is the matter?” whispered Mrs. Everest, 
“is it that you don’t want to leave the Judge and 
Titus?” 

Bethany silently nodded her head. 

“Would you like to come and live with me and 
be my little girl?” pursued Mrs. Everest. 

She felt the little form shrink within her arms. 

“You would rather stay with the Judge?” 

Bethany nodded again. 

Mrs. Everest looked over her shoulder. “What 
do you call him ?” 


io8 Princess Sukey 

“My little pet name for him is Daddy Grandpa,” 
whispered the child, brokenly. 

“Then leave me, run right up to him, throw your 
arms round his neck, and say, ‘Please, dear Daddy 
Grandpa, don’t send me away from you.’ ” 

Somewhat to Mrs. Everest’s surprise, for she did 
not know what a relief the suggestion was to the 
child’s breaking heart, Bethany broke from her arms 
and rushed to the Judge, and, not being able to 
reach his neck, clasped his coat, or as much of it as 
she could grasp, and fairly shrieked in her nervous- 
ness, “Dear Daddy Grandpa, please don’t send me 
away from you.” 

The Judge stopped short. His first thought was 
that the active baby had risen and was seizing him. 
Then he looked down into Bethany’s agitated face 
and said, “What ! What !” 

“Dear Daddy Grandpa,” she cried again ; then her 
overwrought nerves gave way, and she burst into a 
frantic fit of sobbing. 

“She doesn’t want to live with me,” said Mrs. 
Everest, shaking her black head, and as if re- 
marking, “I am sorry, but it is no concern 
of mine,” she sat down and took up her own 
baby. 

Bethany was clasping the coat and crying as if 
her heart would break. 

“Upon my word!” ejaculated the Judge. “Upon 
my word !” 

This was his exclamation in moments of great 
perplexity. “Little girl!” he said. “Little girl!” 

This torrent of tears distressed him and made him 
vaguely alarmed. 


To Adopt or Not to Adopt 


109 

“Bethany, child,” he said, in haste, “little girl, do 
you want to go home?” 

Home ! That was the magic word that the child 
wanted. 

“O, yes, sir; yes, sir!” she gasped, and with a 
hurried farewell to Mrs. Everest the Judge picked 
up the sorrowful child in his arms and fairly ran 
downstairs with her. 


CHAPTER IX 
Another Surprise 


The Judge’s ship had sailed into clear waters — 
his venture of the other day had, so far, proved 
eminently successful. 

It was just one week after his call on Mrs. Ever- 
est. On his way home that day with the disturbed 
Bethany nestling close to him in the sleigh he had 
said to himself many times, “I don’t know what 
Titus will say — I don’t know what Titus will say.” 

Titus said very little. When his grandfather 
called him into his study and told him that Bethany 
seemed to be greatly upset at the thought of leaving 
them, Titus replied briefly, “T-t-then keep her, sir.” 

“But the brother for you — the boy I was going 
to adopt,” said the Judge. 

“I-I-I don’t want a brother, sir,” Titus returned; 
“never did want one — a-a-am glad to get rid of the 
thought of one.” 

“Then you like this little girl?” said the Judge, 
anxiously. 

“D-d-don’t like her and don’t dislike her,” Titus 
replied. “She isn’t in my way — isn’t bad as girls 

The matter ended here as far as discussion went, 
and Bethany slipped into her place as a member of 
the household. She was a very good child, quiet 
and well behaved, and insensibly she was becoming 


Another Surprise 


hi 


a great comfort and a great amusement to the Judge. 
He loved to see her down on the hearthrug playing 
with the pigeon and talking to her. For it was abso- 
lutely necessary for Bethany to have a listener. She 
dreamed such wonderful dreams and saw such 
astonishing visions that it took several hours a day 
of some one’s time to listen to her. 

Bethany felt that the pigeon was sympathetic. 
She always listened with her greenish-yellow eyes 
bent attentively on her, and at times she interposed 
a lively “Rookety cahoo!” So at least she was not 
asleep, as the Judge sometimes was, when Bethany 
was relating her marvels. 

She had soon got the Judge to show her the pic- 
tures of Ellen and Susie, his two little girls that 
had died, and now nearly every night Bethany fan- 
cied that she saw them. She described them dressed 
in their old-fashioned little garments, their hair 
braided in little tails tied with ribbon, their talk 
quaint and demure and seasoned with Bethany’s 
maxims. 

The Judge, touched and amused, listened to as 
many of her conversations as he had time or inclina- 
tion for, then he went to sleep, and Bethany turned 
to the pigeon. 

On this particular day the Judge was reading his 
morning’s mail. 

Bethany had gone to school — the Judge had found 
a kindergarten round the corner on a quiet street — 
and Titus was taking a lesson from a gentleman 
who had effected a number of famous cures in cases 
of stuttering, and who came all the way from Boston 
to treat him. 


1 12 


Princess Sukey 


So far he had done no good. Titus was a mild, 
persistent, and consistent stutterer. He never failed 
to hesitate at the beginning of a sentence unless he 
was deeply moved about something — he rarely 
stopped in the middle of one. 

The Judge, fearing Higby’s bad example, had 
spoken of sending him away, though it was with 
extreme reluctance that he even spoke of discharging 
so faithful a servant. Titus’s teacher did not urge 
him to do so. He said that Higby was a stam- 
merer, while Titus, as yet, only stuttered. The boy’s 
habit could be broken if he gave himself earnestly 
to breaking it up. “Wait a little,” he said to the 
Judge. “He does not take himself seriously yet. 
Wait till something rouses him and makes him co- 
operate with me.” 

“I should think that his comrades making fun of 
him would arouse him,” said the Judge. 

“It probably will, but later on,” replied the teach- 
er, so the Judge was obliged to possess his soul in 
patience. 

On this morning Titus was to finish his lesson 
and then go to school. At present he was in a small 
sitting room, while the Judge was in his study just 
across the hall. 

Presently the master of the house took up a note 
written in a dainty feminine hand. 

It was from the lady who was teaching Bethany. 
The Judge read it, then he began to laugh. Mrs. 
Hume was speaking of Bethany’s facility in making 
paper boxes; she was a marvelous, a wonderful 
child; she outdistanced all the others. She was a 
prodigy. 


Another Surprise 


ii3 

The Judge laughed more heartily than ever. He 
could fancy demure little Bethany’s slender fingers 
manipulating the too familiar cardboard. The child 
had evidently not told her teacher where she had 
learned the art of making boxes. She was an honest 
child, but she was inclined to be shy with strangers. 
Just as well in this case for her to be so. Her asso- 
ciates were mostly Grand Avenue children. Young 
as they were, they might look strangely upon the 
little girl who had been obliged to earn her living. 

It was very amusing, though, to the Judge to read 
this lady’s gushing remarks on the subject of Beth- 
any’s dexterity. He laughed again, and this time 
with such heartiness that he had to put up a hand- 
kerchief to wipe the tears from his eyes. Then he 
somewhat ruefully surveyed the remaining heap of 
letters. 

“Who laughs hard prepares to cry harder,” he 
said, seriously. “There will be something there to 
make me sad.” 

There was. The next letter he took up caused his 
jaw to drop like that of an old man. 

He was absolutely confounded. He sat stock 
still, gazing with unseeing eyes at the pigeon, who, 
sharp enough to perceive that there was something 
the matter with him, flew up on the table, paraded 
over his heap of letters and papers, and uttered an 
inquiring “Rookety cahoo?” 

The Judge did not hear her, and yet he was lis- 
tening intently. His own door was ajar, and when 
a few minutes later the sitting room door opened 
and Titus came out into the hall he called, weakly, 
“Grandson !” 


Princess Sukey 


i 14 

Now he never said “Grandson !” unless some- 
thing serious was the matter, so Titus hastened to 
him. 

“What is it?” he asked, forgetting to stutter as 
he always did when greatly excited. 

The Judge straightened himself. “Pve had a 
blow. Read that — or listen. The writing is bad,” 
and he threw himself back in his chair and, putting 
on his glasses, took up the letter. 

“Who is it from?” inquired Titus. 

“Do you remember hearing me speak of Folsom, 
an old university friend of mine?” 

“The fellow that was so crazy about work among 
the poor?” 

“The same. Poor Folsom, he was always an en- 
thusiast, but I considered him reliable. He became 
a clergyman and went to New York in connection 
with the mission work of some church. Listen to 
what he writes : 

“ ‘My dear Sancroft : What a whiff of good 
times I have had this morning ! I left the slums for 
a call on our dear old Georgeson of the Era, into 
whose pockets my hand is permitted to go pretty 
freely. I found him seated in his magnificent office, 
a financial king on his throne. He showed me your 
letter to him about a boy to adopt. “Georgeson,” 
said I, “I have just the thing.” He advised me to 
correspond with you, but what need is there of 
correspondence when I have the very article you 
want. An English actor died in my rooms the other 
day, a man of the highest respectability. He left 
one lad — a jewel of a boy, fair-haired and sunny- 


Another Surprise 


ii5 

tempered. Just the companion you would wish for 
your own lad, who, if he resembles his grandfather, 
will be dark as to hair and eyes. This boy has 
absolutely not a relative in the world. He is a 
thorough gentleman ; you will love him as a son. I 
have not time to hear from you. Will put him on 
one of the morning trains for Boston. You may 
expect him some time Thursday. Don’t forget my 
work among the poor. God has blessed you freely ; 
freely give. 

“ ‘Your old friend, 

“ ‘Ralph Folsom.’ 

“Rattlebrain! Gusher! Enthusiast!” exclaimed 
the Judge when he finished. His stupefaction was 
over. He began to be angry. 

“Do you see he does not even ask to hear from 
me what I think of this,” he went on, shaking the 
letter at Titus, who sat open-mouthed. “He is so 
sure he is right. He always was — rushed headlong 
into every breach. I would not have had him mixed 
up in this matter for a very great deal. Georgeson 
is a foolish man not to keep his own council,” and 
in considerable excitement the Judge got up and 
paced the floor. 

“If I knew when he was coming I would meet him 
at the station and send him right back to Folsom,” 
he said at last, stopping before Titus. 

“Well, sir,” said the boy, “he’s got to come on 
the 10:30 or the 3:15. If he comes on the 10:30 
he’s here now. I’ll look out the hall window now,” 
and he stepped outside. 

“Jiminy!” he exclaimed, rushing back, “here’s 


1 16 


Princess Sukey 


an open sleigh coming full tilt down the avenue 
with a boy in it.” 

The Judge wheeled round as if to go into the hall, 
then he stopped short. “I can’t see him. After all, 
it isn’t his fault, and he has been lately bereaved. 
Do you receive him, Titus?” 

“I-I-I was going to school,” said Titus, who, hav- 
ing recovered his equilibrium, began to stutter; 
“shall I take him with me?” 

“Yes, no; I don’t care,” said the Judge. “Tell 
him how things are if you get a chance. I’ll see 
him at lunch.” 

Titus darted out of the room, went running and 
limping down the stairs, and was beside Higby when 
he opened the door. 

A tall, pale, handsome lad in a thin light overcoat 
stood on the threshold. 

“Is this Judge Bancroft’s house?” he asked, fixing 
his bright blue eyes on Higby and yet casting a 
glance beyond at Titus. 

Higby nodded. 

The boy turned, and the driver came running up 
the steps with a shabby leather bag. 

The boy himself was carrying in his hand a small 
padlocked wooden box with a perforated cover. 
After paying the driver he followed Higby, who was 
taking his bag into the hall. 

Titus, in his confusion, was saying nothing, and 
the boy, turning to him, remarked courteously, “I 
suppose you are Judge Bancroft’s grandson?” 

“Yes,” replied Titus, simply, “I am.” Then he 
continued staring at his guest, until a half smile on 
the stranger’s face recalled him to himself. 


Another Surprise 


ii 7 

“Take off your coat/’ he said, suddenly, “and 
come in to the fire. There isn’t any in the parlor,” 
and he thrust his head in the doorway, “but come 
in the dining room — there’s sure to be a good one 
there.” 

The boy threw his thin coat over a hall chair, put 
his small wooden box under it and his hat on top, 
then followed Titus. 

“Are you cold?” inquired Titus, motioning his 
guest to one of the big leather-covered chairs by the 
fireplace and taking the other himself. 

“Not at all, thank you,” said the boy, but the 
hands that he held out to the blaze were red and 
covered with chilblains, and Titus, remembering his 
thin gloves, felt sorry that he had asked the question. 

“I dare say you’re hungry,” observed Titus, sud- 
denly. “I always am when I’ve been in the train. 
What would you like? It’s a good while before 
lunch.” 

“Ah, thank you,” said the other, politely; “if I 
might have a little meat, just a little.” 

“Meat,” repeated Titus, “certainly. Higby,” and 
he turned toward the man, who, with a face brimful 
of curiosity, was coming in with some coal for the 
fire, “please have some meat brought up.” 

“And have it raw,” said the stranger, with ex- 
quisite courtesy. 

Titus threw a glance at the boy’s pale cheeks. He 
looked sick. Probably he was taking a raw-meat 
cure. 

“What kind of m-m-meat?” inquired Higby, gog- 
gling at the newcomer. 

“Any kind,” replied the boy, smoothly. 


ii8 Princess Sukey 

“ What’s your name?” blurted Titus, in an em- 
barrassed manner when Higby had left the room. 

“Dallas de Warren.” 

“Ah!” said Titus, and he drew a long breath. 
Then a succession of confused thoughts began to 
pass through his brain. He was not a brilliant boy, 
but he was not without shrewdness. He felt that 
the lad before him, though perfectly calm and appar- 
ently happy, had been led to expect a different wel- 
come from this. The enthusiastic, elderly clergy- 
man in New York had probably told the lad that 
the two Sancrofts would fall on his neck. What 
could Titus do to be more agreeable? He would 
better apologize for his grandfather. The lad had 
not mentioned him, but Titus felt sure that he was 
thinking of him. 

“Dallas,” he said, bluntly, “my grandfather won’t 
be down till half-past one. He is busy in his study 
— gets a lot of letters in the morning.” 

“Indeed,” replied the boy, with a movement of 
his head like that of an older person, “I can fancy 
that he is very much occupied. And then he would 
hardly get Mr. Folsom’s letter saying I was coming 
until this morning.” 

“No, he didn’t,” said Titus, “he had just got it 
when you came.” 

“Then I would be a kind of surprise to him,” said 
the boy, pleasantly, and his big blue eyes fixed them- 
selves calmly on Titus’s dark face. 

The Sancroft boy was in torture. He felt him- 
self growing crimson. His cheeks would tell the 
whole story. 

They did. The English boy understood. He 


Another Surprise i 19 

was not wanted. However, his manner did not 
change. 

He coolly uncrossed his feet, put the left one 
where the right one had been, so that it would get 
a little more heat from the fire, and meditatively 
gazed at the leaping flames. 

Titus, with a dull pain at his heart, noted that 
the boy’s shoes were more than half worn. One of 
them, indeed, had a hole in it. Why were things 
so unequal in this world ? He never used to notice 
that there was a difference between other boys and 
himself. Now he was beginning to see that boys 
just as deserving as himself and Charlie Brown 
were shabbily and insufficiently dressed. Why, this 
boy, for instance, had not enough on to keep him 
warm. Why was it? Why had he no rich grand- 
father to clothe him? 

“Here is the meat, sir,” said Higby, trotting into 
the room with a plate in his hand; “minced beef, 
sir,” and he respectfully put it on the table near the 
English boy.” 

A shade passed over the stranger’s face. With 
all his self-possession he could not help showing 
that he was disappointed. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Titus, bluntly. 

“O, nothing — nothing,” replied Dallas, with a 
wave of his hand. “Only that I would have pre- 
ferred it whole. I should have said so ; it was stupid 
in me.” 

“Have you any more?” said Titus to Higby. 

“Yes, sir; a whole joint.” 

“Then take that away and get an uncut piece.” 

The English boy’s face lighted up strangely. 


120 


Princess Sukey 


“And, Higby,” said Titus, “bring crackers and 
something to drink. What will you have, Dallas?” 

“O, anything,” said the boy, politely; “any kind 
of wine — sherry, perhaps.” 

Titus drew his dark eyebrows together. “My 
grandfather is a strict temperance man ; won’t have 
wine in the house, even for pudding sauces.” 

“O, indeed,” said the boy, lightly, and with veiled 
amusement; “well, it doesn’t matter. Cold water 
will do, or a cup of tea.” 

“We have homemade w-w-wines, sir,” said Hig- 
by, insinuatingly. 

“Bring him some rhubarb,” said Titus; “that is 
good.” 

Higby disappeared, and Titus sank back into his 
chair. There was a heavy dew of perspiration on 
his lip. He did not like this business of entertain- 
ing. What could he do to amuse his guest while 
Higby was absent? Perhaps the new boy liked 
pigeons. 

“I say,” he remarked, suddenly, “do you like any 
kind of pet birds?” 

Dallas scrutinized Titus’s face intently before 
he replied; then he said, “Pm awfully fond of 
them.” 

“What kind?” asked Titus. 

“Well, I like canaries and robins — ” 

Titus’s face was unresponsive, and the stranger 
went on, tentatively, “and doves, and linnets, and 
thrushes, and mocking-birds — ” 

He had not struck the right kind of bird yet, and 
he put up a hand and pushed back the light hair 
from his pale forehead. 


Another Surprise 121 

“Cage birds, do you mean ?” he said, courteously, 
“or yard birds ?” 

“I mean pigeons,’' replied his host, dryly. 

“O, pigeons,” said Dallas, with relief; “they’re 
my favorite birds. I love them.” 

He spoke so warmly that Titus’s heart was almost 
touched in one of his tenderest spots. Almost, but 
not quite. He had a vague distrust of this English 
boy, with his fine manners and his peculiar, lofty 
accent. However, Titus felt ashamed of himself 
for this distrust, and therefore said in a gruffly polite 
tone, “Want to see mine? I’ve got some beauties?” 

The stranger’s face clouded the very least little 
bit in the world. 

“There are one or two things I should like 
to unpack first,” he said, eyeing the tray that 
Higby was bringing in. “After that I should be 
delighted — ” 

“Very well,” said Titus, “you eat your meat and 
I’ll go see what room you’re to have.” 

Catching sight of Mrs. Blodgett in the big up- 
stairs pantry he rushed in. 

“Blodgieblossom,” he said, “there’s a boy here — 
he’s going to stay all night. Which room shall I 
take him to?” 

“Bless me, Master Titus,” said the woman, with- 
drawing her gaze from the china closet, “give me 
a little notice. The bed has to be aired and clean 
sheets put on, and dusting to be done.” 

“I tell you, he’s got to go in it now,” said Titus, 
imperiously. “I want him to hurry up and come 
with me to the pigeon loft.” 

Mrs. Blodgett smiled. She took to herself the 


122 


Princess Sukey 


credit of the acquisition of so many handsome birds. 
Everything had to give way to the pigeons, and, 
feeling in one of the pockets of her big apron for 
her bunch of keys, she said, “You can follow me, 
dear lad, in five minutes to the wee clock room. 

I guess that will do, won’t it ?” 

“Yes, if it’s large enough/’ said Titus, doubt-' 
fully. 

“It’s big enough for a night or two,” she said, 
easily, and she proceeded on her way upstairs. 

Near the front hall door she met Higby. 

“Say,” he whispered, seizing her by the sleeve, 
“say, I believe the Judge has ad-d-dopted another 
boy.” 

Mrs. Blodgett could not speak. She stared at him 
silently for a few instants, then with a strange weak- 
ness at her knees began ascending the stairs. 

Titus went back to the dining room. The new 
boy had eaten his crackers and drunk the wine, but 
he had the plate of meat in his hand. 

“I think I will take this upstairs,” he said, pleas- 
antly. 

“All right,” said Titus, and he slowly led the way 
to the hall. 

Everything was gone that belonged to the boy — 
leather bag, coat, and wooden box. 

His face fell, and he looked almost angry. 

“The servants have taken them up,” said Titus, 
noticing his discomposure. 

“O, very kind of them,” said the boy, hurriedly. 
“I am so unused to be waited on,” and he went up- 
stairs so quickly that, although not knowing the 
way, he kept ahead of Titus. 


Another Surprise 


123 


Mrs. Blodgett and Higby were both fussing about 
the little room, where a Swiss cuckoo clock hung in 
the comer. 

The English boy tried to subdue his impatience 
as he glanced at them, and as soon as they left the 
room he put his plate of meat down on the dress- 
ing table and looked at Titus. 

“Wants to eat alone like a dog,” thought the 
latter to himself, and saying, ‘Til wait for you out- 
side,” he walked toward the door. 

He threw a glance over his shoulder before he 
went out and saw the English lad go fussily toward 
the little padlocked wooden box that he had been 
carrying in his hand when he arrived and carefully 
lift it to the table beside the plate of meat. 

“Must have some treasure in it,” murmured Titus, 
and he went on his way to lounge about the halls, 
wipe the perspiration from his face, and wonder 
what his grandfather would say to the English boy. 


CHAPTER X 
The English Boy 

Bethany came home from school that day full 
of glee. She had gained a little prize for good work. 

“What kind of work?” inquired the Judge. 

Bethany looked up at him and smiled — such a 
demure, knowing little smile. Then she pressed his 
hand to her lips. “Making boxes, Daddy Grandpa.” 

She was swinging on the Judge’s hand, leading 
him down to the lunch table. Every day she ran 
up to his study at one o’clock when she came from 
school. That gave her time for a little chat with 
him and a play with Sukey before the bell rang for 
lunch. 

She noticed that the Judge was graver than usual 
to-day, and she said suddenly, “Are you ill, Daddy 
Grandpa ?” 

“No, child,” he said, slowly, but he immediately 
lapsed into gravity. He always felt deeply morti- 
fied and ashamed of himself after any indulgence 
in excitement or annoyance. He had been greatly 
disturbed this morning — foolishly so. There was 
no necessity for annoyance. All that he had to do 
was to take the affair calmly and to send the boy 
back. 

So it was really with kindness and sympathy that 
he shook the hand of the orphan lad standing beside 
Titus in the dining room. 


The English Boy 


125 

The English boy was somewhat puzzled. At first 
he had been sure that this old gentleman did not 
want him. Now he was not so sure about it, so 
fatherly was the Judge’s manner. 

Bethany was the life of the table. She was not 
a chatterbox, but she possessed a peculiar mind, and 
what she said often amused the Judge and always 
amused Titus. 

The English boy was greatly taken with her. His 
glance rested often upon her pretty brown head, 
and he secretly and bitterly envied her. Here, he 
thought, in ignorance of her past life, is a child born 
to affluence and delightful surroundings. How little 
she knows of the cold world and the struggling for 
existence there. 

Bethany was prattling about ghosts, one of her 
favorite subjects. Last night she had talked with 
Ellen and Susie, the Judge’s two little daughters. 

“W-w-what were they doing?” said Titus, seri- 
ously. He did not dare to jest upon such a subject, 
though sometimes his boyish soul was sorely 
tempted to do so. 

“Ellen, she had a little basket in her hands, and 
she was going to pick blueberries,” replied Bethany. 
“She said, ‘Bethany, come with us.’ ” 

“And did you go?” asked Titus. 

“Course I did; I, and Ellen, and Susie set out. 
We hadn’t gone far when we met a lion.” 

“A-a-a lion!” ejaculated Titus. 

“Yes, a truly lion,” said Bethany, smiling enough 
to show two rows of white little teeth ; “a kind Mr. 
Lion. Said he, ‘Little girls, come with me. I’ll 
show you where the blueberries grow.’ Ellen said, 


126 


Princess Sukey 


‘Mr. Lion, how do you know where the blueberries 
grow, because we haven’t any lions in America.’ 
Mr. Lion said he had run away from a circus be- 
cause the men beat him and fired pistols at him, and 
he was living on blueberries, and they were very 
sweet.” 

“N-n-now, Bethany,” interposed Titus, “a lion 
is a meat-eating animal ; it couldn’t live on berries.” 

“But, boy,” she replied (she often called him 
boy), with an obstinate little shake of her head, 
“this was a ghost lion.” 

“A dream lion, you mean,” said Titus. 

She turned her clear eyes on the Judge. “You 
understand me, Daddy Grandpa ?” 

Her faith in him was so great that he would not 
have had the heart to shake it even if he had wished 
to do so. Therefore he nodded kindly, and Bethany 
proceeded : 

“The dear ghost lion took us on his back — Ellen 
and Susie and me — and we hadn’t gone far before 
we met a bear.” 

“A-a-a bear!” said Titus, in pretended surprise. 

“Yes, a bad, bad bear. Said the bad, bad bear, 
T am looking for little girls.’ 

“Said the dear ghost lion, with a sweet roar, 
‘What kind of little girls?’ 

“Said the big black bear, ‘Little girls who haven’t 
any home. I eat them up, or I take them to my cubs 
in my den.’ 

“Said the good ghost lion, ‘Why don’t you eat 
little girls that have good homes ?’ 

“ ‘ ’Cause,’ he said, ‘ ’cause the fathers and moth- 
ers would be so, so angry. They would come and 


The English Boy 


127 


hunt me and kill my dear baby cubs. Tm only 
looking for little orphan girls. Answer my question 
quick : Have those little girls on your back got any 
parents ?’ 

“ ‘No,’ said the dear lion, ‘but they have the next 
best thing — they have a Daddy Grandpa. He’ll kill 
you and eat your cubs if you dare to touch them. 
Stand aside, wretch !’ ” 

Titus, at this quietly dramatic command of the 
lion, became so convulsed with amusement that 
Bethany, in confusion, stopped, and would not go 
on. 

Titus, recovering himself, begged her pardon, but 
she was inexorable. 

“ ’Ceptin’ Daddy Grandpa, no boy shall ever 
know what became of the good lion and the bad 
bear,” she said, firmly, but without the slightest 
resentment, for she immediately went on talking to 
Titus on other subjects. 

She did not seem to show much curiosity with 
regard to the English boy, though he was gazing 
at her with the greatest amusement and interest. 

Her prattle soothed the Judge ; she was beginning 
to be a great comfort to him. A little girl about 
the house was more company than a boy, and she was 
quieter. He liked boys, and yet there were times 
when he would just as soon have a whirlwind in 
his study as his dear grandson Titus. Bethany was 
never noisy, never violent. She crept about the 
house after him like a little mouse. 

“Yes, dear,” he said; “what is it?” for she was 
patiently waiting for him to answer some question. 
“May you go to drive with me this afternoon ? Cer- 


128 Princess Sukey 

tainly ; it is much pleasanter to have a little girl than 
to go alone.” 

Then, for they had all finished eating, he got up 
from the table. 

“I want to speak to you, my lad,” he said, laying 
a hand on the shoulder of the English boy. 

Titus looked pityingly after Dallas as the Judge 
led the way to the large, handsome parlor — the 
one room that they all disliked, since there was no 
woman in the house to give it a homelike air. 

The Judge closed the door after him, then he 
turned to Dallas. 

“My boy,” he said, kindly, “I am very sorry to 
inform you that you have come here through a 
mistake. Mr. Folsom was not authorized to send 
you. I do not see anything for you to do but to 
go back.” 

Whatever the English boy’s feelings were, he 
bravely surmounted them and, quietly bowing his 
head, he said, respectfully, “very well; I will do as 
you wish.” 

“You look pale,” said the Judge, kindly. “I do 
not think the air of New York is good for growing 
lads, so if you wish I will allow you to stay here 
a few days before going back to Mr. Folsom.” 

.The boy’s face flushed gratefully. “I am greatly 
pleased to accept your offer, sir ; I will stay gladly.” 

“I will advise Mr. Folsom of my decision,” said 
the Judge, “so that he can be making other arrange- 
ments for you. In the meantime, amuse yourself 
as best you can. My grandson will, I know, do all 
he can to entertain you,” and the Judge paused and 
glanced delicately at the lad’s thin suit of clothes. 


The English Boy 


129 


“1 will take you to my tailor’s this afternoon.” 

Dallas’s face became as red as fire. “I would 
rather not, sir ; if I am not to stay here I can accept 
no favors.” 

“Nonsense, my boy,” replied the Judge. “By 
staying a few days you are accepting a favor, and 
you are not suitably dressed for this cold weather. 
If I were a poor boy, and you a well-to-do man, 
would you not give me a suit of clothes?” 

“Yes, indeed,” he said, earnestly. 

“Then think no more about it. It is no disgrace 
to be poor. It is a disgrace to suffer when friends 
are willing to relieve you.” 

The Judge paused, and the interview was closed. 

Dallas went away, and Titus was informed by 
his grandfather of what had occurred. 

“I want you to entertain him for a few days,” the 
Judge said. 

“Very well, sir,” replied the boy, submissively, but 
there was no pleasure on his face, nor graciousness 
in his manner. 

“Don’t you like this boy?” asked the Judge. 

“I don’t know him,” said Titus, gruffly. 

The Judge pondered. Titus was not stuttering; 
he was disturbed in some way. 

“He speaks peculiarly,” remarked the Judge, “at 
least to our ears. We do not hear very much that 
broad sound of the ‘a’ here.” 

Titus maintained a grim silence. 

“Suppose you were alone in the world?” sug- 
gested the Judge, softly. 

“I’ll take care of him, sir,” said Titus, almost 
roughly, and he hurried away. 


130 


Princess Sukey 


He kept his word. For five days he was just as 
attentive to the stranger as one lad could be to an- 
other. They were scarcely separated one hour, and 
there was not a hint of discord between them. The 
Judge saw very little of them except at meal times. 
He was struck by the exquisite and unfailing cour- 
tesy of the newcomer. Nothing ruffled him, nothing 
caused him to forget his good manners. They really 
seemed to be a part of him. Sometimes the Judge 
felt a vague uneasiness that all this politeness hid 
something that ought to have been revealed — that 
the boy was too agreeable to be genuine. He was 
pretty sure that Titus agreed with him in this, al- 
though he had never heard him discuss his new 
friend with anyone. 

“Titus,” he said one day when Dallas happened 
to be away with Charlie Brown, “Dallas’s visit is 
drawing to a close. I hope that he considers it a 
successful one.” 

Titus gave him a peculiar look. “I think he does, 
sir.” 

“The servants have been respectful to him, I 
hope.” 

“They’ve got to be,” said Titus, grimly ; “he has 
a way with him — ” 

“What kind of a way?” inquired the Judge. 

“Hard inside and soft out,” replied the boy, “and 
his blood is blue. Theirs is only red.” 

“Is he proud of his culture?” 

“He’s got a pedigree,” said Titus, gloomily, “a 
pedigree as long as your arm, and he carries it in 
that old leather bag. It takes the de Warrens away 
back to William the Conqueror.” 


The English Boy 


131 

“Why, so have you a pedigree for that matter,” 
and the Judge smiled. 

Titus looked up quickly, and the Judge opened 
one of his table drawers. “When I was in England 
last I went to a heraldic office. I knew that Sancroft 
was an old English name, and I wished authentic 
information respecting our descent. There I saw 
our armorial bearings and got the pedigree. Here 
it is.” 

The boy eagerly took the long slip of paper. 

“Do you see,” said the Judge, “you can trace your 
ancestry back to a viking of Norway.” 

“Hooray!” said Titus, suddenly brandishing the 
paper as if it were a weapon, “farther back than his. 
May I show this to Dallas.” 

“Certainly.” 

The boy stopped on his way out of the room and 
said in an injured voice, “Why didn’t you show me 
this before, sir.” 

“I didn’t know that you would be interested,” said 
the Judge, in much amusement. “We pay, or have 
paid, so little attention to such matters in America. 
However, you are typical. The younger genera- 
tion is thinking more about ancestral descent than 
ever the older ones have thought.” 

Titus ran away, and the Judge gazed thoughtfully 
out of the window. Sukey was on the balcony nod- 
ding and bowing very energetically at a number of 
common street pigeons who were very anxious to 
perch beside her. 

Higby had put her bath out in the sun, and it 
looked very attractive to them, but she was deter- 
mined that they should not bathe in her china bowl. 


132 


Princess Sukey 


One male pigeon lighted on the railing, and, strut- 
ting and talking to the princess, at last persuaded 
himself that she was favorably inclined toward him. 
He flew boldly on the edge of the dish. Whereupon 
Sukey ran forward, seized him by the short, soft 
feathers of the neck, and in a most unprincesslike 
rage shook him and dragged him about, until at 
last he was glad to get away from her. 

The Judge smiled and stepped out on the balcony. 

He looked down on a calm, homelike scene. All 
about him were handsome houses standing in their 
own grounds. The snow lay thickly over every- 
thing now, even the trees were laden with it, but 
the winter scene had a beauty of its own. The day 
was not cold; it was barely freezing. Roblee was 
sweeping the concrete in front of the stable in his 
shirt sleeves. Two of the maids were brushing a 
rug at the back door, and Mrs. Blodgett was stand- 
ing in the sunshine watching them, with nothing 
but an apron thrown over her head. 

Presently Dallas came through the stable and 
down the walk to the house. The Judge noticed 
what a kind smile he threw each of the servants as 
he passed them and how respectfully they eyed him. 

He waited till he heard the lad coming up the 
stairs and through the hall outside his study, then 
he stepped out to meet him. 

“How well the boy looked ! His new clothes had 
come the day before. In deference to his wishes, 
the Judge had ordered black for him. Dallas had 
been very much touched — indeed, he had almost 
broken down — and he had confided the information 
to the Judge that his inability to put on mourning 


The English Boy 


133 

for his beloved father had been a great grief to 
him. 

“Dallas,” said the Judge, kindly, “Mr. Folsom 
expects you to-morrow evening. You must take the 
early morning train from here.” 

A quick, heavy shadow passed over the boy’s face, 
but he said, composedly, “Very well, sir. I shall be 
ready.” Then he passed on to his room upstairs. 

With a strange sinking of the heart the Judge 
paced slowly up and down the hall. He was sorry 
to send the lad away, very sorry indeed, for he 
feared that he did not want to go. 

Presently he paused in his walk and went to the 
big hall window overlooking the street. Where 
was Bethany? The mild afternoon was drawing 
to a close. It would soon be dark; she ought to be 
in. Just after dinner she had gone for a drive with 
him, then had asked permission to take some flowers 
to a sick child a few doors away, but she should 
have returned by this time. Ah! there she was, 
crossing the street. But what was the child doing? 

The Judge’s eyes were affectionately fastened on 
the little white-fur figure coming toward the house. 
In the middle of the snowy avenue she had paused. 
A coal cart, lately passing, had shaken off some 
black lumps on the street. Bethany was surveying 
these lumps with interest. “Now, what has she 
got in her little head?” thought the Judge with 
amusement. 

Suddenly the child bent over. She carefully set 
down the little pink beribboned basket in which she 
had carried the flowers to the sick playmate, drew 
a tiny handkerchief from her pocket, and spreading 


134 


Princess Sukey 


it in the basket she took off her gloves and was care- 
fully lifting the lumps of coal one by one, when she 
had two interruptions. The first came from two 
ladies, neighbors, who were going to their homes 
near by. The Judge saw them stop and speak to 
Bethany, then he opened the window. 

In unconcealed amusement they were asking her 
what she was going to do with the coal. 

She seemed to be shyly evading their questions, 
and as they passed on the Judge heard one of them 
say, in a clear voice, “How curious it is that a black, 
dirty thing like coal should have such a fascination 
for the average child !” 

Bethany’s second interruption was not so easily 
put off. Mrs. Blodgett, whose keen eyes surveyed 
not only the interior of the Judge’s mansion but also 
its exterior and the avenue on which it was situated, 
had espied the stray lamb, and the Judge saw her 
fat figure descending the steps with considerable 
agility and pouncing upon Bethany. 

“Here, dear child,” she said, “come into the house 
this minute.” 

Bethany protested slightly, but Mrs. Blodgett 
calmly seized the basket, turned it upside down, took 
her by the hand, and led her into the house. 

Just before they arrived outside his study the 
Judge closed the window and went inside beside his 
fire. 

“Sir,” said Mrs. Blodgett, knocking on the half- 
open door, “can you speak to this little girl?” 

“Come in,” he said, and Mrs. Blodgett walked in, 
still holding Bethany, who looked disturbed and a 
little rebellious. 


The English Boy 


135 

“Now, sir,” said Mrs. Blodgett, decidedly, “I 
wish you would speak to this little girl, for she don’t 
mind me. I’m tellin’ her all the time that, though 
you don’t like wastefulness, yet meanness is hateful 
to you, and she do do the strangest things. She picks 
up coal and little bits of sticks for the fire, an’ she 
goes round an’ smells the soap — ” 

“Smells the soap?” repeated the Judge, in bewil- 
derment. 

“Yes, sir; I caught her the other day. She were 
in your room. You know, sir, you has in your bath- 
room sandalwood soap. Master Titus, he have pure 
Castile; the strange boy he have common toilet; in 
the kitchen we have Hittaker’s.” 

“Ah ! Hittaker’s,” interposed the Judge, “is that 
a good soap ?” 

“Fine, sir, for a cheap soap. But what I was 
goin’ to say is this : This here little girl loves good 
soap, and, young as she be, she knows the difference. 
She rolled your cake in these weeny hands, she put 
it to that little nose, she wanted it herself, but what 
do she do? She slips into your dish the little bit 
of sandalwood that I’d given her, she goes to the 
upper hall closet an’ takes a cake of Hittaker to her 
own room.” 

“Well!” observed the Judge, patiently. He did 
not understand what all this talk about coal, and 
sticks, and soap meant, and he did not like to see 
the sensitive child stand there looking like a culprit. 

“Sir,” said Mrs. Blodgett, solemnly, “she be 
a-tryin’ to save.” 

The Judge started. This threw a new light on the 
subject. 


Princess Sukey 


136 

“Yes,” Mrs. Blodgett continued, “I know that this 
little girl has been a poor little girl, but her mother 
were a lady. I can tell by her ways, an’ Pm tired 
of tellin’ her that you don’t want her to be a poor 
little girl no longer, a pickin’, tradin’, savin’ little 
girl. You does the business. She has only to be 
good an’ not wasteful, but also not beggarlike. 
What’s what in one place isn’t what’s what in an- 
other. She have mentioned River Street. Now, 
River Street aint Grand Avenue.” 

“Very well, Mrs. Blodgett,” said the Judge, with 
a reassuring nod, “I will talk to her,” and in great 
relief the fat woman surrendered the culprit to him 
and went away. 

After the housekeeper’s departure Bethany ad- 
vanced somewhat timidly to the fire, and, taking off 
her cap, coat, and gloves, placed them in a neat little 
heap on a chair. Then she looked up apprehensively 
at the Judge. 

“You’re not angry with Bethany, are you, Daddy 
Grandpa ?” 

“No,” he said, “I’m not angry.” 

“We used to do it at Mrs. Tingsby’s,” she said, 
spreading her little hands to the blaze. “Annie, and 
Rodd, and Goldie, and I used to take little pails 
and go round the streets ; on barge days we got lots.” 

“What do you mean by barge days,” asked the 
Judge. 

“Days when the barges came up the river with 
coal. Then the trucks took it round the city. We 
followed the trucks. We could keep the kitchen fire 
going for days. Lots of children did it, Daddy 
Grandpa.” 


The English Boy 


137 


The Judge was ominously silent, and Bethany 
went on in a depreciatory way. “Mrs. Tingsby was 
very good to me. When my mamma died she said, 
‘You must do all you can to help her, but do not 
go round to the hotels with her/ ” 

“To the hotels ?” repeated the Judge. 

“Yes, sir; to the back doors. They give poor 
people leavings from plates. Mrs. Tingsby used to 
get quite nice things sometimes, such as turkey 
slices, broken cake, perhaps even whole mutton 
chops, fish heads and tails, cut apples, decayed ba- 
nanas, melted ice cream, lumps of pudding — ” 

“Stop !” implored the Judge. 

Bethany looked up at him quietly, for she had 
been gazing at the fire and speaking in a dreamy 
fashion. 

“They were very good, sir. Once I found a little 
turnover in a pail Mrs. Tingsby brought home — 
the sweetest little turnover I ever ate. There were 
lots of surprises. You know Jimmy Fox, the dog 
man, don’t you ?” 

“No, I don’t know him.” 

“Well, he has lots of dogs, and he lives out the 
back road near the iron works. Jimmy always car- 
ried a bag; Mrs. Tingsby, she took a pail. One night 
Jimmy got a whole rabbit. He was so pleased; but 
Mrs. Tingsby said there must have been something 
the matter with that rabbit, or they wouldn’t have 
given him a whole one. However, Jimmy didn’t 
die, and he ate it. She saw him.” 

The Judge tried to smile, but he could not. 
He did not find Bethany’s reminiscences at all 
amusing. 


Princess Sukey 


138 

“Child,” he said, suddenly, “promise me that you 
won’t pick up any more coal.” 

Bethany looked at him in surprise. “Why, course 
not, Daddy Grandpa, if you don’t want me to.” 

“And take the soap Mrs. Blodgett gives you; 
don’t use Hittaker’s.” 

“Very well, Daddy Grandpa,” she replied, quietly. 
“Has Bethany been a bad girl ?” 

“No, child, no; but it is not necessary for you to 
be so economical.” 

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“It means saving. Do you think that Titus ought 
to go and pick up sticks for the fire?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because he isn’t a little poor boy. He is your 
very own child.” 

“Yes, he is my very own grandson, and you are 
my very own granddaughter.” 

She took a quick step toward him, and in her 
excitement made one of her rare slips in speaking. 
“But he was borned that way.” 

“And you are made that way,” said the Judge, 
firmly. “I make you my little granddaughter. Un- 
less the Lord takes my money away from me, you 
will never have to pick up coal again.” 

“I didn’t think you would send me back to River 
Street, Daddy Grandpa,” she said, earnestly. 

The Judge was silent, not knowing what turn her 
thoughts would take. 

“I thought I was your little girl,” she went on, 
earnestly, “your little poor girl. I picked up sticks 
and coal to help you. It is a good deal for you to 


The English Boy 


139 

take a little poor girl when you have a rich boy to 
keep up.” 

“Child,” said the Judge, firmly, “I don’t wish any 
distinction to be made. You and Titus are on the 
same footing.” 

Bethany made a little obstinate movement of her 
neck. “My mamma told me all about it, sir. She 
said, ‘Bethany, when I am dead, remember a 
’dopted child isn’t like a real child. She must be 
sweet, and good, because people are watching her. 
She must save everything, even a pin. She must say 
every day, “Lord, keep me gentle like a lamb.” ’ ” 

The Judge, somewhat disconcerted, said hastily, 
“I wish your mother had not told you that.” 

Bethany shook her head patiently. “You are very 
kind, sir, but you can’t change me — I’m only 
’dopted. I’m not borned your really grandchild.” 

Her companion was silent for a few minutes, 
musing on the enormous power of early impressions 
and maternal influence. At last he said, somewhat 
impatiently, “Then I suppose that as I am not your 
real grandfather you do not care much for me.” 

Bethany had begun to carefully stack her little 
arms with her wraps to take upstairs, but she sud- 
denly laid them down again. 

“Sir,” she said, facing him once more, “last night 
I said to Ellen and Susie, said I, ‘Girls, you must 
have been dreadful fond of your dear grandpa, who 
was your real grandpa, when I am only his play 
grandchild, and I just love him — just love him,’ ” 
she repeated, earnestly. 

The Judge looked down at the little face glowing 
in the firelight. 


140 Princess Sukey 

“You are a good child,” he said, softly, and he 
bent over and kissed her forehead; “whatever you 
say, you are my own dear granddaughter after this.” 

She smiled happily, then bent in a reproving way 
over the pigeon, who had come in and was pecking 
at one of her gloves that had fallen on the hearth- 
rug. 

“Little saint, you must not soil Bethany’s glove. 
You are a rich bird, and do not understand that 
poor little girls have to be careful of their clothes.” 

Sukey seized the glove and did her best to toss 
it into the ashes. 

Bethany patiently took it from her, then she 
looked round. “Daddy Grandpa, where is Sukey’s 
pincushion? She wants something to play with.” 

The Judge took the cushion from a drawer and 
put it on the hearthrug, and the pigeon, trotting 
over to it, began to pull out the large-headed pins 
and throw them about the carpet. 

“I’ll pick them up,” said Bethany, “just as soon 
as I put my things away,” and she again filled her 
arms with her wraps, the Judge agreeably placing 
the cap on the top of the pile. 

“Good-bye,” she said, sweetly, “I’ll soon be back.” 
Then she bent forward and looked mysteriously out 
into the hall, which Higby, strange to say, had not 
yet lighted. 

“What do you see?” asked the Judge. 

“The yellow, spotted dog,” she replied, in a whis- 
per. “I just caught one little glimpse of his tail. 
He’s running upstairs. Maybe I’ll find him under 
my bed.” 

The Judge watched her toiling up the staircase. 


The English Boy 


141 

What a strange child ! He had never heard her ex- 
press any fear of the darkness. Indeed, it was so 
peopled with ghosts and fancies that he doubted if 
it had any terrors for her. It was rather filled with 
companionship. He often heard her talking to Ellen 
and Susie, to her mother and the yellow, spotted 
dog. Then he must also take into consideration 
that she was the child of poverty. Children nursed 
in the lap of luxury can afford to have nerves. The 
children of the poor must steel themselves to priva- 
tions. Bethany had never been accustomed to 
lighted halls till she came here. 

Dear little child ! What kind of a woman would 
she make ; and as the Judge went back into his study 
he put up a fervent prayer, “O! Lord, let me live 
till I see what is to become of my own child and the 
child of my adoption.” 


CHAPTER XI 
Deceit and Forgiveness 

Every morning before breakfast Titus went out 
to see his pigeons. He really had not time to do 
much more than look at them, for he was not an 
early riser. His real work in taking care of them 
was accomplished in the afternoon, at the close of 
school. 

Bethany had found out about this habit of his of 
visiting the pigeon loft, and when he left his room 
in the morning he always found her loitering out- 
side, waiting for an invitation to visit the “dear 
birds.” 

“Come on,” Titus always said, and taking her 
hand he would run out to the stable. 

The pigeons knew her as well as they knew him, 
and he often allowed her to give them a few hand- 
fuls of hemp seed. This seed, being of an oily na- 
ture, was not fed continuously to them, but they 
dearly loved it, and when Bethany stretched out her 
palms the pigeons flocked round her. 

She shivered with delight when she felt their soft 
necks against her fingers, and she never laughed 
lest she should frighten them, although Titus, stand- 
ing in the background, was often convulsed with 
amusement. 

The pigeons, in their anxiety to get the seed, 
would crowd each other. Then there would be 


Deceit and Forgiveness 143 

fights. The combatants, withdrawing from the 
others, would seize each other by the heads and drag 
each other about, finally coming back to find all the 
seeds gone. Their rueful faces when they contem- 
plated Bethany’s empty palms were very amusing, 
and with a foolish air they always listened to the 
little girl’s gentle reproaches on the subject of quar- 
reling. 

Sometimes they had dances. That was their 
nearest approach to play. If they were particularly 
hungry when they saw Bethany coming with the 
hemp seed, they would all flap their wings and dance 
about her, often lifting themselves off their feet and 
turning round and round. 

Since Dallas had come to Riverport he, too, had 
formed the habit of going out to see the pigeons, 
but on the morning of the day on which he was to 
leave, Titus and Bethany did not find him waiting 
for them. 

“I-I-I don’t expect him,” said Titus. “I hope — 
I mean, I think — he’s packing. His train leaves in 
an hour and a half. Come on in, Bethany. I’ll 
run up and see if I can’t help him.” 

Bethany trotted into the house and went into the 
dining room. The Judge was just entering it, and 
presently the servants filed in for prayers. 

After prayers came breakfast, and then as the 
Judge and Bethany sat at the table Titus entered 
with a slow step and a rueful face. 

“Dallas is ill, grandfather,” he said, slowly. 

The Judge looked up. “What is the matter with 
him ?” 

“I don’t know, sir,” said Titus, in a peculiar man- 


144 Princess Sukey 

ner. “His face is red, and he keeps his head under 
the bedclothes.” 

“He was quite well last evening,” said the Judge, 
and his mind ran back to the night before, when, to 
his great relief, the English boy had been cheerful 
and entertaining, instead of moping, as he had 
feared he would do when he was informed that he 
must go back to New York. 

“Yes, sir,” said Titus, “he played those games fast 
enough.” 

“Perhaps he has taken cold,” said the Judge ; “I 
will go up and see,” and, throwing his napkin on 
the table, he went slowly upstairs. 

Dallas was red and feverish, and his eyes were 
bright. 

“Have you a headache ?” asked the Judge. 

“A splitting one,” replied the boy. 

“And a pain in your back?” 

“Fearful pain,” and the boy groaned. 

“I will send for a doctor,” said the Judge. “Will 
you eat anything?” 

“O, no, no; thank you,” and he shook his 
head. 

The Judge went downstairs and telephoned to his 
physician. Then he went back to the dining room 
and finished his breakfast. 

As he left the dining room the doctor arrived. 
Not his own family physician, to the Judge’s dis- 
appointment, but his assistant. 

“I wished to see Dr. Moberly,” he said to the 
young man, who pleasantly informed him that Dr. 
Moberly was in New York. 

The Judge said nothing, but on accompanying 


Deceit and Forgiveness 145 

him to the English boy’s room he saw that the young 
man was considerably puzzled by the case. 

One minute he said he thought the lad was sick- 
ening for measles, then he inclined to scarlet fever, 
then to a feverish cold. 

The Judge kindly but firmly told him that he 
would not require him to prescribe for the case, and, 
bowing him out, he again went to his telephone. 

He would request the superintendent of the City 
Hospital to call. He had been greatly impressed 
by his knowledge of boys. 

An hour later Dr. Reynald drove up. 

“Against my rules, you know,” he said, shaking 
his head at the Judge; “no private practice, but I 
couldn’t refuse you. What do you want ?” 

The Judge told him. “I have an English boy 
staying with me. He was to have gone to New 
York this morning. He is ill and can’t go; won’t 
eat, and I am anxious about him.” 

“Take me to him,” said Dr. Reynald. 

They went upstairs together, and Dr. Reynald, 
after giving a sharp glance round his patient’s room, 
went to the windows and pulled back the curtains. 
Then he sat down by the bed and fixed his bright, 
gray eyes on the boy. 

Dallas became a more furious red than ever under 
his glance, and when the doctor said, “Let me feel 
your pulse,” he half hesitated. 

Dr. Reynald, however, gave a peremptory tap on 
the bedclothes, and the boy put out his hand. 

It was only detained a short time. The doctor 
bent over him, passed a hand over his forehead, 
whispered a question, to which the boy gave a re- 


Princess Sukey 


146 

luctant reply, then, getting up, he nodded to the 
Judge and went out of the room, followed by an 
ashamed, despairing glance from his patient. 

The Judge took him in his study and shut the 
door. “Nothing dangerous, I hope; not smallpox, 
for example. ,, 

“Worse than that,” replied Dr. Reynald, shortly. 

“Worse ? What can it be ?” 

“A touch of moral leprosy — the boy is sham- 
ming.” 

“Shamming!” exclaimed the Judge 1 . 

“Yes. I don’t know the reason ; perhaps you can 
tell me.” 

“He looks sick,” said the Judge, uneasily. “I 
don’t want to distrust your word, but is it possible 
that you are mistaken?” 

“Not possible. We sometimes have such cases 
at the hospital. Then I made him confess him- 
self that he was. Tell me something about this 
boy.” 

The Judge immediately told him all that he knew, 
and he had only uttered a few sentences when he be- 
came convinced that Dr. Reynald was right. 

“It’s the old, old story,” he said, when he had 
finished what he knew of Dallas’s antecedents. “I 
ought to know it better than most people. It is 
easier to do wrong than to do right.” 

Dr. Reynald smiled. “Yes, you ought to know; 
and yet I envy you your beautiful faith in human 
nature which you have kept, in spite of your pro- 
fession.” 

“God knows I have tried to hold on to it,” said 
the Judge, earnestly. “I would be willing to lie 


Deceit and Forgiveness 147 

down and die if for a moment I gave up my belief 
that there is good in every human heart.” 

“This is not a heinous case,” said Dr. Reynald. 
“In fact, it is rather flattering. That storm-tossed 
lad finds this a quiet haven. He dreads to leave it.” 

“But his duplicity,” said the Judge. “I must be 
severe with him for that. Now, evidently last even- 
ing when I told him he must leave he was much 
shocked. Yet he hid his real feelings.” 

“He was thinking out a plan,” said Dr. Reynald. 
“He is a skillful diplomat. What are you going to 
do with him?” 

“Tell him to get up and take the train for New 
York,” said the Judge, firmly. 

“And let him come back again next week.” 

The Judge smiled. 

“Come, now,” said Dr. Reynald, “confess that 
you are slightly pleased — an old fellow like you find- 
ing a slip of young life clinging to you.” 

The Judge laughed outright. “Ah! doctor, it is 
my environment that the boy likes. His poor young 
soul craves comfort.” 

“Not altogether,” and Dr. Reynald shook his head 
obstinately. “Fve seen luxurious interiors where a 
boy slip would not want to take root. There's some- 
thing about you, Judge, attractive to young life. 
You ought to have a dozen youngsters.” 

His friend stretched out his hands. “Heaven 
forbid! but I will confess it caused me a pang to 
send this boy back to the New York whirlpool. Per- 
haps I am not sorry to shelter him for a time. 
Something else may turn up for him. Would you 
like him?” 


148 Princess Sukey 

“No, thank you,” said Dr. Reynald, politely. “A 
hospital home and an old bachelor father would be 
cold comforts for your boy. No, keep him, but try 
to break him of that iniquitous habit of shamming-.” 

“Do you suppose he has been deceiving in other 
things?” asked the Judge, anxiously. 

“You said he had eaten no breakfast?” 

“Yes, I did. He has eaten nothing this morning.” 

“He has been cramming himself with soda crack- 
ers. I smelt them on his breath.” 

“But I cannot bring up such a boy as this with 
Titus,” remarked the Judge, indignantly. 

“Do you think he can deceive your grandson 
as easily as he deceives you?” asked the doctor, 
sharply. “Ah ! the finesse of youth — nothing equals 
it but the equal understanding of youth.” 

The Judge reflected for a minute. Titus’s man- 
ner had been very peculiar when he announced 
Dallas’s illness. He had also gone off to school 
without showing any particular concern about the 
English boy. 

“I believe Titus knew,” exclaimed the Judge. 

“I believe he did,” said Dr. Reynald, coolly, 
“from what I know of Titus. Don’t distress your- 
self about a little lying. Children all take to it as 
ducks to water. The main thing is to get them out 
of it, before they get their feathers wet — and it takes 
a lot of soaking to wet them.” 

“Titus is no story-teller,” said the Judge, thought- 
fully, “though he does other provoking things.” 

“How old is he?” 

“Fourteen.” 

“Then if he has not acquired the habit of lying 


Deceit and Forgiveness 149 

he won’t get it now. Don’t be afraid of the English 
boy, Judge. Give him a chance. It’s an awful 
world for motherless and fatherless lads. I see them 
on the rocks every day.” 

“But I ought to send him back to New York,” 
said the Judge, weakly. 

“No such thing. Go upstairs, give him a tremen- 
dous scolding, then forgive him. You’re not bound 
to keep him if he proves outrageous. But he won’t. 
He’s a delicate slip; he’s looking for some soft 
corner to creep into like a sick cat or dog. Put 
yourself in his place, Judge; put yourself in his 
place.” 

The Judge did, and he shivered. “I will let him 
stay,” he said, suddenly, “on your recommendation, 
but he must be talked to.” 

“Good-bye,” said Dr. Reynald, with a mischiev- 
ous face, “good-bye. Let me know when you have 
a serious case again,” and he hurried out into the 
hall and downstairs. 

The Judge went thoughtfully up to Dallas’s bed- 
room. 

The boy was half dressed, and when his friend 
and protector came into the room he sank on the 
bed in an attitude of the deepest dejection. 

From the depths of his good, kind heart the man 
was glad to see that the boy was desperately 
ashamed of himself. 

“Dallas,” he said, kindly, “what have you to say 
for yourself?” 

“Nothing, sir, nothing,” said the lad, turning his 
face away. 

“You have deceived me,” said the Judge, softly. 


150 Princess Sukey 

“Yes, I have deceived you/’ said the boy, in a 
dull voice. 

“You feel badly about it?” 

“I don’t know,” said Dallas, wearily. “I suppose 
I do. I am so tired, sir. I have heard my father 
speak of hunting in England. The fox turns and 
twists ; he does not know where to go.” 

The boy’s attitude was so listless, his manner so 
utterly dejected, that the Judge’s heart was touched 
with pity. No frantic protestations of regret, no 
tears would have appealed to him as did this simple 
hopelessness. The boy was done with stratagems. 

“Dallas,” he said, gently, “do you like my grand- 
son?” 

“Pretty well, sir.” 

“You have pretended to like him better than you 
do?” 

“Yes, I have.” 

“You have been making yourself agreeable, hop- 
ing that I would change my mind about adopting 
you ?” 

“Yes, I have,” he replied, bitterly. 

“And when you found you had to go back to New 
York, what did you plan to do ?” 

“I didn’t plan to do anything,” said the boy, in 
a low, fierce tone. “What could I do? Your friend, 
the clergyman, is as poor as a church mouse; he 
couldn’t keep me. I’d have to work in some low, 
dirty place. O, Lord ! I wish I had strength enough 
of mind to poison myself.” 

“Dallas,” said the Judge, “are you a lazy boy?” 

“Is it laziness to hate smelling, poverty-stricken 
people and their queer ways, to dread to rub elbows 


Deceit and Forgiveness 15 i 

all the time with men and boys that talk horrid, 
vulgar talk, and that don’t understand you?” asked 
the boy, almost rudely. 

“I asked you whether you disliked work,” said 
the Judge, firmly. 

The boy stared at him. “I like to study, to handle 
nice, clean books and hear nice, clean language ; but 
what does it matter what I like? You have washed 
your hands of me,” and, dropping his head, he mis- 
erably toyed with an open penknife that he held in 
his hand. 

The knife was red and stained, and the Judge 
eyed it suspiciously. “Dallas,” he went on, decid- 
edly, “deceit is easier to some natures than to others. 
I want you to tell me in just how many ways you 
have tried to make things appear other than they 
are since you have been here.” 

The boy got up in a tired way, sauntered to a 
closet, and opened the door. “There!” he said, 
bringing out a small box and setting it down on the 
floor. “I’ve deceived you all about these ever since 
I came,” and taking a little key from his pocket he 
opened the padlock on the box and threw back the 
perforated lid. 

The Judge started. There on a perch in the box 
sat two tiny owls — the softest, grayest little owls 
he had ever seen. They sat close to each other, 
seemingly not at all afraid, but fixing their large, 
beautiful round eyes on Dallas they uttered a 
simultaneous and soft “Too whoo, whoo, whoo 
whoo!” 

“Well!” exclaimed the Judge, “well!” 

“They are California screech owls,” said the boy, 


152 


Princess Sukey 


in a dull voice ; “my father’s pets. He loved birds, 
and bought these once in San Francisco when he was 
touring. When he died he asked me to take care of 
them, and I have done so for his sake, though I 
hate them.” 

“You hate them!” said the Judge. Was it pos- 
sible that he had at last found a young person that 
did not like birds ? 

“Yes, I hate them,” said the boy, energetically. 
“I hate all birds. I’ve been pretending to like 
pigeons to curry favor with your grandson. It 
doesn’t matter about speaking the truth now that I 
am going away.” 

The Judge looked from the bits of raw meat in 
the box to Dallas’s red penknife. 

“Where do you get food for them ?” 

“I buy meat or beg it ; and, in fact, all the family 
but Titus think that I’m taking a raw-meat cure. 
Titus caught on to me, though I don’t know whether 
he understands what kind of creatures I’m feed- 
ing.” 

“I hope you don’t keep them in that little box at 
night ?” 

“O, no; I let them fly about my room at night. 
They sleep all day.” 

The Judge put on his eyeglasses and stared at the 
little feathered creatures, who were sleepily blinking 
their eyes. 

“Would they fly away if you let them out?” 

“I don’t think so, sir. My father used to let them 
out at night, and they would catch sparrows and 
bring them to our room and eat them.” 

“How curious!” remarked the Judge. Then he 


Deceit and Forgiveness 153 

went on, “We have no cats about the house. Let 
them have their liberty, but give them plenty of 
meat. We have not too many sparrows here.” 

Dallas looked sharply at him, but the Judge, tak- 
ing no notice of his glance, calmly put his glasses 
in their case and returned them to his pocket. Then 
he said, irrelevantly, “Dallas, are you wholly Eng- 
lish?” 

“No, sir; only on my father’s side. My mother 
was a Western girl.” 

“Has she any relatives living?” 

“Only distant ones, and all poor as poverty.” 

“How long has your father been dead?” 

“Three months.” 

“You missed him when he died?” 

The boy gave him a look, such a look of utter, 
hopeless grief, of unavailing, stifled grief, that the 
Judge’s kind heart ached with a sudden ache of pity 
and comprehension. 

“Boy,” he said, “you want a new father.” 

“Ah! that is something I shall never have,” ex- 
claimed Dallas, his whole soul rising in a protest 
of misery and revolt. 

“Here is an unworthy substitute,” said the Judge, 
quietly tapping his breast. “Stay with me, Dallas; 
be my boy.” 

The lad once more looked at him. He was more 
demonstrative than Titus. If conditions had been 
a little different he would have thrown himself on 
the neck of the kind man before him, he would have 
sobbed out some of his unhappiness to sympathetic 
ears. But the Judge was a comparative stranger to 
him, and he was so miserable, and so ashamed of 


154 


Princess Sukey 


himself, that it seemed as if he could not be happy 
for a time at least. 

“Get back into bed,” said the Judge, softly. “You 
are tired and worn out from mental stress and 
worry. Your meals will be served here to-day. 
To-morrow, if you feel like it, come downstairs and 
take your place among us. Only one thing I ask 
of you — be honest with me, Dallas. Will you, my 
boy?” 

The lad turned and threw himself full length on 
the bed. His whole frame was shaking, and he 
could not utter a word. 

The Judge did not insist, for he was a wise man. 
Softly closing the door, and gently shaking his head, 
he went slowly downstairs. 


CHAPTER XII 
The Yellow Spotted Dog 

“I wonder what Titus will say?” muttered the 
Judge to himself. “I wonder what Titus will say? 
Perhaps I should have waited to ask him.” 

“Titus,” he said, when his grandson returned 
home from school, “what do you think of the Eng- 
lish boy?” 

Titus grinned, then he said, “How is he?” 

“Did you think he was very ill?” inquired the 
Judge. 

“You’re going to keep him,” said Titus, bluntly. 
“I knew you would. I knew he would get round 
you.” 

“Do you like him?” asked the Judge, anxiously. 

“Not I,” said Titus, contemptuously. “I think 
he’s a great, big fraud.” 

The Judge sighed. Titus’s manner was cool, but 
he must be greatly stirred about the matter, for he 
was not stuttering at all, and at each reply he made 
to his grandfather he stepped slightly forward. 

Finding himself crowded against the parlor door, 
the Judge opened it and went in. 

“Grandson,” he said to Titus, who was still ad- 
vancing, “I want you to do more good in the world 
than I have done.” 

“I’ll be satisfied to do half as much,” replied Titus, 
dryly. 


Princess Sukey 


156 

“You liked the boy when he came,” said the 
Judge, uneasily. 

“I’ve never liked him for one single minute,” said 
Titus, striking an inlaid table with his fist. “Pve 
pretended to like him.” 

“So you pretend, too?” said the Judge. 

“If I didn’t pretend a bit,” said Titus, energet- 
ically, “I’d be fighting from morning till night, with 
no stops for meals. Suppose I told half the fellows 
in school what I think of them ?” 

“Suppose I told half the men downtown what I 
think of them?” reflected the Judge, with inward 
shrinking. 

“But there’s different kinds of pretense,” said 
Titus, still with animation and still pursuing his 
grandfather, who, occasionally looking over his 
shoulder, was stepping cautiously round the room. 
“I saw the fellow was going to stay here. I 
wasn’t going to block him. I can keep out of his 
way.” 

“Then you are not prepared to receive him as a 
brother ?” 

“Brother — nonsense,” said Titus, disrespectfully. 
“I tell you, grandfather, it’s easier to father a boy 
than to brother him.” 

“He is going to be honest now,” said the Judge. 

“Moonshine !” exclaimed Titus, angrily stamping 
his foot. “He’s a born actor, like his father.” 

“Titus,” said the Judge, mildly, from a corner 
where he had taken refuge, “I never saw you do 
that before. You have been a respectful — ” 

“Well, I don’t feel respectful now,” said the boy, 
furiously. “How can I respect you when I see every 


The Yellow Spotted Dog 157 

Tom, Dick, and Harry pulling the wool over your 
eyes ?” 

“Our interview is at an end,” said the Judge, 
“and if you will step back a little I will move toward 
the door. I am sure that upon thinking this matter 
over you will see an apology is due to me.” 

Titus sulkily dragged himself from the room. 
With a sinking of the heart the Judge noticed that 
his limp was more perceptible than usual. 

“Grandson,” he called after him. 

Titus turned round. His grandfather’s face was 
glowing. 

“How can you ever think for an instant,” said 
the Judge, “that any boy or any girl can take the 
place of my only dear child?” 

Titus’s sullen face melted. 

“I want to make a noble man of you, my boy,” 
continued the older man, advancing with both hands 
outstretched. “I want you to have a great, gener- 
ous heart, to get out into the huge world and make 
thousands of souls happy. You cannot expect all 
those souls to be responsive. You have got to make 
them happy, in spite of themselves; and how can 
you hope to influence thousands when you shrink 
from only one, and only a slightly uncongenial soul, 
at your own fireside? O, my dear grandson, love 
everybody, love everybody!” 

It would have taken a sterner soul than Titus’s to 
resist such words, such ambitious and loving affec- 
tion. 

“Grandfather,” he said, slowly, “I’m sorry.” 

The Judge caught his outstretched hand. “My 
dear boy,” he said, “my dear boy,” and he pressed 


158 Princess Sukey 

the black head to his heart. “My own dear 
boy.” 

Titus uttered a grunt of delight, and ran away. 
That own was for him. Fifty thousand English 
boys could not come between him and his grand- 
father. 

“Hello, chickie,” he said, catching up Bethany 
and her big school bag as they appeared in the door- 
way. “Hello, chickie,” and he carried her and the 
bag up the first of the long staircases. 

Laughing and catching her breath with delight, 
Bethany, after she was set down on her feet, threw 
a kiss after Titus and then mounted the next stair- 
case to her room. 

Titus, pursuing a joyous pilgrimage to the stable, 
encountered Higby, and gave the old fellow a play- 
ful dig in the ribs, which sent him into his pantry 
with a crease of delight forming itself about his 
lips. Mrs. Blodgett, pursing her lips over a spoiled 
pudding, was restored to good humor by a playful 
pinch and a teasing “Hello, Blodgieblossom !” She 
forgot to scold further, and Martha the cook bent 
over the dish in question with a relieved smile. 

Dashing through the kitchen, Titus tossed Jen- 
nie’s apron under the table, then scampered out to 
tease and comfort Roblee. 

Bethany, as usual, hurried to put away her things, 
then, kneeling on a chair before her big basin, she 
washed her little face and hands and trotted down- 
stairs to have her before-luncheon chat with the 
Judge and the pigeon. 

It was astonishing how little waiting on the child 
required. The Judge had been ready and willing 


The Yellow Spotted Dog 159 

to engage a youthful maid to attend her, but Mrs. 
Blodgett had begged him not to do so, saying that 
an extra servant would only be in the way, and that 
Bethany really required such a small amount of 
attention that any of the present maidservants felt 
it a pleasure to give it to her. Therefore Bethany 
had a small room all to herself between Mrs. Blodg- 
ett’s and Dallas’s. 

Not finding the Judge in his study, Bethany de- 
voted herself to the princess. 

“ I have been learning a new song about you,” she 
said, prettily. “Now, listen,” and taking her red 
dress in her hands she made a little curtsey and 
began : 

“This is the birdie I love the best, 

This is the Sukey I love to caress. 

This is the birdie I love the best, 

This is my darling Sukey.” 

In the midst of her bowing and singing the Judge 
came into the room. Sukey was standing with one 
claw uplifted, a pair of attentive eyes fixed on Beth- 
any, and an expression that seemed to say, “Very 
pretty, indeed; please sing some more.” 

“Where did you learn that, little girl?” inquired 
the Judge. 

“I just changed it, Daddy Grandpa,” said Beth- 
any, wheeling round. “It is really and truly a dolly 
song, but I put in ‘birdie.’ ” 

The Judge was looking intently at her. Was she 
not going to inquire about the English boy? She 
had known that he was ill when she went to school. 

“Don’t you want to know how Dallas is?” he 
said, suggestively. 


160 Princess Sukey 

“ O , yes, poor Dallas. Is he a sick boy yet?” 

“No, he is better. He is going to stay here, Beth- 
any.” 

She looked up quickly. “To be your other boy — 
the boy you were looking for when you found me?” 

“Yes — exactly so.” 

She made no reply, but, sitting down in the little 
rocking-chair that the Judge kept in his study for 
her, she thoughtfully took Sukey on her lap and 
began to stroke her pretty hood. 

“Are you glad?” inquired the Judge. 

“I would rather have had Charlie Brown,” she 
said, frankly. “Couldn’t the Browns take Dallas, 
and let us have Charlie ?” 

The Judge did not reply. What a mysterious 
thing was child nature. Bethany was sweet and 
kind with Dallas, but she did not like him as she 
did Titus and Charlie Brown. 

What was it about the English boy that did not 
harmonize with the natures of either Bethany or 
Titus? It could not be a racial difference, for the 
boy was half American. Probably Bethany and 
Titus, being essentially honest, felt that there was 
something about the stranger that was hidden from 
them. They did not quite trust him. Now, if 
Dallas were to turn over a new leaf and try to be 
strictly honorable, to try to mean just what he said, 
their slight aversion might change to real liking. 

“Daddy Grandpa,” asked Bethany, suddenly, 
“must I call Dallas 'Brother’ ?” 

“Yes, you rpust,” said the Judge, firmly. He 
would do his best to reconcile these strong young 
natures. 


The Yellow Spotted Dog 161 

Bethany’s face became dreamy. Her fingers 
stopped stroking the pigeon ; she was wandering off 
into her spirit land as she often did when things 
in her material world went contrary with her. 

The Judge, who had been standing watching her, 
walked back and forth, and finally extended his 
promenade to the hall. 

When he approached the doorway or entered the 
study he could catch sentences from Bethany. 

“ Yellow, spotted dog, you must not bite clothes. 
Be a good, gentle dog, or boys will throw stones at 
you. Brick, will you let poor doggie sleep in your 
hogshead to-night ? He is lonely all by himself.” 

“So the colored boy slept in a hogshead,” mur- 
mured the Judge. 

“Hark,” said Bethany, suddenly, “I hear his bark, 
his sweet, sweet bark. O, my dear Bylow, my lovely 
spotted dog, I could hug you.” 

The Judge, happening to be near the hall window, 
and happening to hear a dog bark, instinctively 
looked out. 

To his amazement a colored boy with a dog was 
passing on the opposite side of the street — and the 
dog was spotted. 

“Bethany,” he said, suddenly, “is your colored 
boy very black?” 

She threw up her little head, and, losing her 
thoughtful expression, came back to earth. “No, 
sir ; Brick is a kind of a red-brown boy — like bricks. 
That is why the boys called him Brick.” 

The Judge involuntarily stretched out a hand. 
He felt like hailing the dirty-looking mulatto boy 
now getting out of sight. 


1 62 


Princess Sukey 


“There goes Bylow again,” exclaimed Bethany, 
“hear his sweet little voice, Sukey.” 

The Judge started. The dog in the street had 
just uttered a succession of barks as he turned the 
corner — most unmelodious and ugly barks, to tell 
the truth, but then Bethany’s geese were all swans. 

“Child,” he said, “I thought that dog was a ghost 
dog.” 

“So he is a ghost dog,” she remonstrated, gently, 
“but don’t you know I told you he was a real dog, 
too. He isn’t dead. He is only losted.” 

“And when he barked just now was he barking 
as a ghost or a real dog?” 

“He is a ghost,” she said, thoughtfully, “because 
I never see him in the streets now, but I guess his 
bark must have been real — it sounded so naturelle. 
Perhaps he is in the air,” and she looked up at the 
ceiling. 

The Judge laughed and resumed his walk, but the 
dog question interested him considerably, especially 
later on when he took to meeting the same colored 
boy about town with a spotted dog at his heels. The 
dog had yellow eyes, and the Judge, knowing that 
if the boy remained in Riverport it would only be a 
question of time as to his meeting with Bethany, 
shuddered and shrank within himself, for he knew 
what the little girl would do. 


CHAPTER XIII 
Higby and the Owls 

Until the coming of Bethany and Dallas the 
Judge had never seen Titus in contact with other 
boys and girls. 

The boy had been brought up alone; when he 
wanted playmates he went abroad to seek them. He 
very seldom brought a boy home to play with him. 
The Judge had often remarked this, and had attrib- 
uted the absence of children from his own house as 
an outward sign of Mrs. Blodgett’s inward dislike 
of “clutter.” However, since his adoption of Beth- 
any and Dallas he had noticed that boys and girls 
came about the house quite freely. 

There was therefore some other reason for their 
previous absence; and in his new interest in boy 
and girl study he decided that one child alone in a 
home is not a sufficient nucleus for a play place. 
He cannot gather round himself as great a variety 
of interests as several children can. 

Another thing the Judge marveled at was the 
amazing strength of youthful character. Titus 
when alone had been submissive, patient, self-effac- 
ing. As soon as these other children had been 
introduced into the house he became self-assert- 
ive, particular as to his rights, and yet not 
disagreeable. 


Princess Suicey 


164 

Even little Bethany had a strong character. Lit- 
tle men and women — grown people in miniature, 
the Judge often thought to himself as he gazed at 
the three young heads about his table. 

Dallas' success as a member of his family had so 
far exceeded his most sanguine expectations. The 
Judge had written a rather amusing letter to Mr. 
Folsom on the subject of his adoption of the boy, 
and had told him firmly that although he was keep- 
ing Dallas he was to be the last child of adoption. 
He wished no others. Alas! the Judge was no 
prophet. 

Mr. Folsom, in his delight, had come to Riverport, 
and had had a three-days' visit at the Judge’s and 
many long conversations with Dallas. The Judge 
could not but acknowledge that Dallas was in part 
a changed boy. He could not expect him to make 
himself over all at once, but the lad was certainly 
more sincere. He was still polite, exceedingly polite, 
but he did not bore himself and other people by 
doing things that were against his nature. 

For instance, he had given up his ceaseless com- 
panionship of Titus. The two went their respective 
ways. They did not quarrel, neither did they har- 
monize and to the Judge’s amusement they even 
went to school at separate times. 

If there was a question of championship Titus 
was at Dallas' side, and one day the Judge did 
hear a species of altercation between the two boys — 
an altercation that had ended in a reconciliation. 
Titus had Dallas penned in a corner out in the 
garden under the Judge's study balcony. 

‘‘Look here, if you don't try to drop your blamed 


Higby and the Owls 165 

old English accent I’ll stop fighting for you,” he 
said. “I 'most got my nose broken to-day. Can’t 
you say ‘fast’ ? It isn’t ‘fost.’ ” 

“Fast, fast,” said Dallas, submissively. 

“Now say ‘last.’ ” 

Dallas said “last” and “mast” and many other 
words, until at last he got out of patience and re- 
belled. “I don’t want to lose my English accent. 
I am proud of being English.” 

“Then you do your own fighting,” said Titus, 
furiously. 

“What makes you think I can’t fight,” said Dal- 
las, and his pale cheeks grew pink. “I’m taller than 
you.” 

“Taller,” sneered Titus; “you’re soft like a stick 
of candy.” 

He began his sentence on his feet, but finished it 
on his back in a bank of snow. 

He was up like a flash and standing before Dal- 
las, who was ejaculating, “You little black lead 
pencil.” 

Titus’s wrath was all gone, to the Judge’s amaze- 
ment, and he was gurgling in his throat: “How did 
you do it? Teach me that trick — come on, Dallas, 
teach me.” 

The English boy’s contempt faded, and he smiled 
complacently at the changed face before him. 

“I will tell you something,” he said, grandly. 
“Once my father was to figure in a wrestling match 
on the stage. Now, he was a good all-round ath- 
lete, but he was not satisfied with himself. We were 
in New York at the time. You have heard of Billy 
McGee, the trainer?” 


i66 


Princess Sukey 


Titus caught his breath. “O, yes — yes.” 

“Well, he got Billy McGee to come and train him. 
It cost a fearful sum, but father gave it. Billy 
taught my father, and my father taught me. So you 
needn't fight my battles any more.” 

Titus’s face was glowing. “I say,” and he linked 
his arm in Dallas’s, “tell me some of those tricks 
of throwing. I don’t know a thing.” 

The Judge groaned. The boys were walking 
away together arm in arm. “O, this glorification 
of brute strength,” he muttered, “the bane of the 
rising generation,” and holding out a finger to the 
pigeon, who was bowing and cooing to him, he 
stepped into the house. He must talk to these boys 
on the subject of fighting, and seating himself in his 
favorite chair he began to prepare a fatherly or 
grandfatherly speech. 

Bethany came in and, seeing that he did not wish 
to be disturbed, sat down on the rug with Sukey. 

Higby brought in the afternoon mail, and with a 
stifled yawn laid it on the table and departed. 

Poor old Higby ! He was a very early riser, and 
at the close of every day he began to get sleepy, 
and immediately after the seven o’clock dinner of the 
household he retired to his room. Jennie, the parlor 
maid, took upon herself his duty of going to the 
hall door when there was a ring. 

On this particular day the Judge composed his 
speech, then went down to dinner with Bethany. 
Somewhat to his dismay, somewhat to his relief, 
and just a little to his amusement, Titus and Dallas 
came to the table like two brothers. Their eyes 
were on each other, their attentions were for 


Higby and the Owls 167 

each other; they scarcely saw the Judge and Beth- 
any. 

Ah! the enthusiasm of youth, and shaking his 
head the Judge requested them both to accompany 
him to his study after dinner. Upon arriving there 
he talked to them very seriously on the evil of pick- 
ing quarrels with other boys and the demoralizing 
effects of an appeal to brute force. 

The boys were listening attentively and respect- 
fully, when their minds were most forcibly with- 
drawn by a succession of blood-curdling shrieks 
from the floor above. 

With one accord they all sprang to their feet and 
ran out to the hall. 

“B-b-burglars ! Th-th-thieves ! F-f-fire! M-m- 
murderers !” rang out in stammering tones. 

Poor old Higby, in the fine dressing-gown that 
the Judge had given him at Christmas, and in a 
pair of bedroom slippers to match that Mrs. Blodg- 
ett had made for him, was running downstairs, 
screaming at the top of his voice, and with eyes 
starting from his head. 

“R-r-ring up the police,” he went on, “c-c-catch 
them alive !” 

“Higby, ” commanded the Judge, firmly, “calm 
yourself and tell us what is the matter.” 

The old man gained some degree of composure 
upon arriving in the hall and seeing himself sur- 
rounded by friends. 

“They ’m-m-most killed me,” he said, wildly, 
stepping up and down and clasping his head with 
his hands. “They t-t-tried to dig their knives in 
me, but I r-r-ran like a fox.” 


1 68 


Princess Sukey 


Though considerably older than the Judge, his 
head was not white, but was covered with a thin 
crop of grizzled hair. 

“O, blood !” he moaned, miserably, bringing down 
one hand and extending it toward the Judge, “blood ! 
blood!” 

There were red streaks on his hands, and the 
Judge looked at them seriously. 

“Higby, begin from the first. What has hap- 
pened to you?” 

The man began to step backward and to stammer 
violently. 

“S-s-sir, I was in m-m-my room, b-b-back through 
the upper hall in the L.” 

“Turn him round, some one,” called Mrs. Blodg- 
ett, who was hurrying up from below. “He’s back- 
ing downstairs.” 

Titus sprang forward, took him by the sleeve, and 
led him past the group of frightened maids to a safe 
corner by the hall window. 

From there he went on with his story. 

“W-w-was in m-m-my room in my bed, s-s-sound 
asleep, d-dreaming of home and m-m-mother. 
S-s-sir,” and he turned to the Judge, “w-w-we lived 
in a little house b-b-by a running brook, n-n-near 
a w-w-wood. I woke up, s-s-sir, c-c-crying. Then 
I heard a s-s-sound, sir, 1-1-like the sounds of o-o-old 
times.” 

“Well?” said the Judge, encouragingly. 

“I-I-I got up, sir; I put on m-m-my gown a-a-and 
s-s-slippers ; I-I-I went out in the h-h-hall, sir.” 

“And what happened?” 

“Th-th-the burglars must h-h-have been waiting, 


Higby and the Owls 


169 

s-s-sir. They j-j-jumped on me from behind. 
Th-th-they struck me on the h-h-head with their 
sharp knives, s-s-sir.” 

“Did you see them?” asked the Judge, sharply. 

“I-I-I thought I saw one, sir. He was all in 
b-b-black, sir, and he d-d-dug his knife in me.” 

The Judge looked mystified. If it had been the 
middle of the night he would have believed Higby’s 
story, but early in the evening he could not for a 
moment suppose that any thieves would rush out 
and attack a person who was simply walking along a 
hall. However, he turned to the boys. 

“Come upstairs with me and we will make a 
thorough search.” 

“Wait a minute, please, sir,” said Dallas. “May 
I ask Higby what the sound was that drew him 
from his bed ?” 

“T-t-the sound of owls, sir,” stammered Higby, 
“of little ow-ow-owls siftin' on the trees an* 
hootin.' ” 

Dallas gave Titus a queer look, and the latter 
immediately burst out laughing. 

“ Ton my word; poor old Higby,” gasped Titus. 
“You've been fooled.” 

The manservant looked at him indignantly, while 
Dallas turned to the Judge, who was waiting for 
an explanation. 

“You told me not to keep my birds so closely, sir, 
so I let them do pretty much as they please. I open 
my window every night at dusk. They must have 
got in through some other window into the hall. 
It is a habit of owls to pounce on anything furry 
or hairy.” 


170 


Princess Sukey 


“I know that,” said the Judge, with a hearty 
laugh. “I’ve heard of their descending on the fur 
caps of hunters. Well! well! poor old Higby,” and 
he turned to him. “Come, now, get over your fright. 
Those were only little birds that attacked you — 
Master Dallas’s little owls.” 

Higby was in a speechless rage. He did not dare 
to get angry with the Judge, but he did not for a 
moment believe that his assailant had been a bird. 

“Come, come,” said the Judge, humoring him; 
“to satisfy you we will make a search.” 

Quite a procession moved up the stairway — the 
Judge, holding Bethany’s hand, in advance, the two 
boys and the servants following. 

Upon arriving in the upper hall and traversing 
it to the L beyond, where the servants’ bedrooms 
were over the kitchen and pantries, Dallas kept 
looking sharply about. 

One peculiarity of the Judge was that he liked 
plenty of light. At night the electric lights were 
turned on in every hall and every room, whether 
occupied or not. 

“I do not see the culprits,” said Dallas, “but I 
will call,” and he gave a tentative “Too whoo, whoo, 
whoo whoo !” 

“Too whoo, whoo, whoo whoo,” said two little 
soft voices near them. 

Dallas stuck his head out a window. “Ah, there 
are the miscreants, sitting on the limb of that tree.” 

The branches of the big, leafless old elm brushed 
the hall window, and the little owls sitting there were 
calmly contemplating a rising moon. 

The Judge let Bethany look at them, then he 


Higby and the Owls 171 

said : “See, Higby, there are your burglars. There 
are no traces of any others here. No man would 
be bold enough to pass through this lighted house, 
and if he did why should he attack you?” 

“I-I-I saw him,” burst from Higby, “a b-b-big 
black man.” 

The Judge looked down at Bethany. She was 
tightly clasping his hand, and the expression of her 
face was doubtful. 

“They were owls that attacked you, Higby,” he 
said, decidedly; “don’t let me hear any more non- 
sense about a burglar. Come downstairs, children,” 
and he turned about. 

Bethany would not let go his hand, even when 
they entered the study. 

“I will read aloud a little to compose her thoughts 
before she goes to bed,” the Judge reflected. “No 
fairy tales to stimulate her imagination, but some- 
thing that she will not understand,” and he took 
from his bookshelves a volume of Milton’s 
works. 

He seated himself by the table, drew his reading 
light toward him, and began. After a time he 
looked down at the little figure sitting on the stool 
at his feet. 

“I suppose you don’t understand this, Bethany,” 
he said, patronizingly. 

“O, don’t speak, don’t speak, Daddy Grandpa,” 
she said, impatiently ; “please go on.” 

She had lifted her head. Her face had lost its 
dreamy expression. It was glowing, radiant, and 
intensely interested. The Judge went on mechan- 
ically : 


Princess Sukey 


172 

“ * There the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed 
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire — ' ” 

Why, the child was understanding what he read, 
he reflected with surprise, or, rather, she was put- 
ting her own interpretation upon it. 

“Bethany,” he asked after a time and slowly 
closing the book, “what do you make of all 
this?” 

“O, I think,” she said, eloquently, “that Satan 
must be the father of that bad black man that struck 
Higby, and his home must be in the fiery gulf.” 

The Judge smiled. “Bethany, those were Dallas’s 
owls that attacked Higby. There was no black man 
there.” 

“But, Daddy Grandpa,” she said, incredulously, 
“little birds could not be so bad.” 

“I fear they were bad, Bethany. Birds are not all 
good. They are like children. Some are good, 
some bad ; but come, it is your bedtime.” 

“It doesn’t feel my bedtime,” she said, quickly. 

“But it is. Little girls ought to get to bed early.” 

“Sometimes I sat up late when my mamma was 
alive,” she said, coaxingly. 

“I think you would better go,” said the Judge. 

“There is no one up there that I know,” she re- 
plied, drearily. 

“How about Ellen and Susie; you tell me they 
live in the wall beside your bed.” 

“They have gone to the country to see the place 
where they are buried,” she said, quickly. 

The Judge was silent. Sometimes his studies of 
childhood mystified him. Just now he was afraid 
that Higby’s foolish story had caused this hereto- 


Higby and the Owls 173 

fore fearless child suddenly to become afraid to 
go upstairs to bed. 

While he was thinking she silently caressed the 
pigeon, which had hopped up into her lap, but after 
a time she put up one of her tiny hands and con- 
vulsively seized his large one. “Daddy Grandpa, 
read some more. You have a honey voice.” 

The Judge smiled broadly, then he took up a 
magazine from the table. What would best put a 
little girl to sleep ? Ah ! the political situation in the 
far East, and this time Bethany did go to sleep. 
Her head was against his knee so he could not move, 
but through the doorway he hailed Dallas, who was 
coming out of the sitting room opposite, where he 
and Titus prepared their lessons. 

“Dallas, send Mrs. Blodgett here.” 

“Mrs. Blodgett,” he said, when she came puffing 
up the stairway and stood before him, “have a 
bed moved in this little girl’s room and let one of 
the maids sleep there in future. I don’t think that 
it is good for her to be alone so much.” 

Mrs. Blodgett nodded her head. “Just what I’ve 
been a-thinkin’, sir. I’m willin’, I’m sure, to take 
her in my own room next door.” 

“No, no; you need your sleep,” said the Judge. 
“You are getting older, and you have brought up 
one family. Let one of the girls attend to this 
child.” 

“She do talk a lot to herself in her room, sir. 
I hears her laughin’ and chattin’ with them two 
blessed little girls of yours.” 

“Doesn’t she talk of other children?” asked the 
Judge. 


Princess Sukey 


174 

“O, bless you, yes, sir, an’ she also talks to tables, 
an’ chairs, an’ carpets, an' that ghost mouse. She 
do have a name for everything in her room, an’ 
you’d think she had a whole menagerie to hear her 
growl an’ bark.” 

“Must be the spotted dog,” said the Judge to 
himself with a smile, and he again took up his 
magazine. 

Mrs. Blodgett waddled away. “Sure an’ it’s a 
wonderful thing how at his age he do take on the 
ways of a family man. He ought to ’a’ had a 
dozen children.” 

The Judge was instinctively a model person at 
managing children. To begin with, he loved them ; 
and to end with, he did not fuss over them. Just 
now he was becoming intensely uncomfortable on 
account of this solid little lump against his slightly 
rheumatic knee. If he took her up and laid her 
on the sofa he might wake her, so he gave her a 
cautious little push. She gently rolled over. He 
guided her head and assisted the indignant pigeon 
to fly away. Now Bethany was comfortably 
stretched on the floor sleeping soundly, her pretty 
mouth wide open, after the fashion of civilized) 
children. 

The Judge had heard of Indian mothers closing 
the mouths of their babes, so he bent over and gently 
brought the child’s lips together. To his delight 
they stayed closed, and with a sigh of relief he 
stretched out his long legs, took up his magazine, 
and looked enjoyably about him before he went on 
with his reading. 

He was intensely fond of his books ; indeed, read- 


Higby and the Owls 175 

in g was almost a passion with him, and the evening 
hours were the pleasantest part of the day. 

Work was over, the children were safely in the 
house — for since Titus’s accident he always had a 
little anxiety about boys and girls absent from their 
own rooftrees — and he was free to amuse himself in 
this most delightful of ways. 

Alas for the Judge! He had not read five sen- 
tences when he heard a shrill, insistent voice, not in 
this upper hall, but in the one below, away down 
by the front door. 

“I tell you I must see the Jedge. I hevn’t got no 
message.” 

Strange to say, the voice, which was shrill and 
uncultured rather than noisy, woke Bethany like 
the sound of a trumpet. 

Instantly rousing herself she sat up and looked 
composedly at the Judge. There was not the slight- 
est sign of confusion about her, or any bewildered 
look as of a child hastily aroused from sleep. 

“Daddy Grandpa,” she said, quickly, “I’m the 
yellow spotted dog,” and beginning to growl and 
snap horribly she went down on hands and feet and 
crawled under a big table in a corner — a favorite 
play place because it had a long, heavy cover whose 
sheltering folds concealed a castle, a ship, a railway 
train, an ogre’s cavern, or any other fancy that Beth- 
any chose to indulge in. 

The Judge looked after her submissively. His 
part was not to rebel, but to await developments. 

Then he turned his head to the doorway. 

“Sir,” said Jennie, in a puzzled voice, “there’s 
a little poor girl craving to see you.” 


Princess Sukey 


176 

“Bring her up,” said the Judge, promptly, and he 
tried to think where he had heard that shrill voice 
before. 

Two minutes later he knew, for Airy Tingsby, 
the smart, pert girl, the head of the Tingsby clan, 
and the one who had been so saucy and impertinent 
to him, now stood within a few feet of his chair. 


CHAPTER XIV 
A Call from Airy 

The Judge was a gentleman, and he was in his 
own house, so he got up, motioned her to a seat, 
and said, politely, “Good-evening.” 

“Good-night,” she said, curtly, then she looked 
about her. 

O, the bitter envy and discontent of her face! 
The Judge averted her eyes. It was not pleasant 
to see that expression on the face of a child, for she 
was scarcely more. 

“Why hev you got all this?” she said, suddenly, 
“and why hev I nothin’?” 

The Judge made no reply except that of a mourn- 
ful shake of his head. 

“And why,” she went on, leaning eagerly forward 
from her chair and pinching the thin sleeve of her 
jacket, “do I hev to wear shoddy cloth an’ you wear 
broadcloth ?” 

“Only Oxford cloth,” said the Judge, protest- 
ingly, “only Oxford in this house suit.” 

“How much did you pay for it?” she asked, 
grimly. 

He made no reply, and she continued. “How 
much did you lay out on that diamond neck pin; 
how much did your house cost and this fine furni- 
ture?” 


Princess Sukey 


178 

The Judge discreetly evaded an answer by a pro- 
testing wave of his hand, and at the same time 
thought that a few months previous to this he would 
have bowed the saucy little girl from the room. 
Now, although he wanted to get back to his read- 
ing, and he gazed wistfully at the heap of new lit- 
erature on his table, he was really anxious to hear 
what the girl had to say. Something lay under 
this — so much he had learned of youthful ways. 
How the little wretches understood that he was 
interested in their confidences. They were as sharp 
as grown people. 

“My girl,” he said, kindly, “what have you come 
here for?” 

Before she answered him she pointed half angrily, 
half curiously at Sukey. “What’s that, an’ what’s 
it starin’ at me for, like as if I had no right to be 
here?” 

The pigeon, to the Judge’s amusement, had re- 
sented Airy’s entrance as much as Bethany had done, 
but instead of retreating she advanced, stepping 
high, and curling each pink claw with indignation. 
The look on her high-bred face was delicious, com- 
ing from a pigeon. Her greenish-yellow eyes were 
stony, every feather in her hood quivered and 
seemed to close more protectingly about the little 
white head. 

Once or twice before, the Judge had seen her act 
so in the presence of poor people, and he had laid 
her indignation down to a sense of smell, like that 
of the average dog, who hates a poor or dirty per- 
son. But Airy was a very clean child. The Judge 
knew what kind of a mother Mrs. Tingsby was, 


A Call from Airy 


179 

so his theory of smell would scarcely hold good in 
this case. 

Possibly Sukey was sympathizing with Bethany, 
whom she had got to love devotedly. Anyway, the 
Judge must answer the child, so he said, kindly, 
“The bird is a pigeon; she is called a Jacobin.’' 

“She’s an ugly thing, anyway,” replied Airy, 
sulkily, “an’ she hates me. Shoo !” and she clapped 
her hands. 

The indignant Sukey, who was no heroine, turned 
tail and scuttled under Bethany’s table, where the 
Judge heard a low growl of welcome greet her. 
Then, his two pets safely disposed of, he looked 
expectantly at Airy, hoping that she would remem- 
ber his question as to her motive for calling on him. 

She did remember, and, sinking back in her chair 
with a weary gesture, she said, “I’ve come to tell 
you that I wants to be a lady.” 

“Poor child !” murmured the Judge, involuntarily. 
Then he tried to realize the enormity of the ques- 
tion thrust upon him. 

“Why warn’t I born a lady?” pursued Airy, 
uncompromisingly. “Why warn’t I born your 
darter?” 

“Well,” said the Judge, hesitatingly, “well, I sup- 
pose it pleased Providence to place you in another 
sphere.” 

“Sphere!” she repeated, sneeringly, “that’s no 
word I ever heard. ’Pears to me you rich folks 
make up words to suit yourselves. But if I don’t 
know ‘sphere,’ I do not know one word, an’ that’s 
‘Fiddlesticks!’ ” 

“Well,” replied the Judge, with a polite move- 


i8o 


Princess Sukey 


ment of his head, “your word is a good old English 
one used by Southey, Thackeray, and others, though 
I believe it is unknown just how and why it became 
an expression of contempt.” 

“I don't know what you’re drivin’ at,” replied 
Airy, wearily, “but I’m goin’ to say my proposition 
over again : I wants to be a lady !” 

The Judge, having heard the announcement be- 
fore, bore it this time with fortitude. 

“An’ what’s more/’ she went on, “I wants you to 
help me.” 

“What can I do?” inquired the Judge, in mild 
surprise. 

“You can gab a bit with me now an’ then,” she 
said, earnestly. “Why, I took to you the first time 
I see you.” 

“Did you,” replied the Judge. “Well — ahem! — 
I fancied that you were not much taken with 
me. 

“I was mad with you,” she said, frankly, “mad 
because I figgered that you was returnin’ Bethany 
on us. Then I was mad to think you didn’t get 
mad.” 

“Do you get mad easily?” 

“Awful easy. I’m mad ’most all the time. You 
see, I’m kind of sickly, an’ I hevn’t much relish 
for what I eats, an’ nothin’ makes you mad like 
pickin’ at yer food.” 

“Poor child !” said the Judge, sympathetically. 

“But I’m goin’ to be a lady,” she said, and her 
little sharp face hardened, “if I lives. If I dies it 
don’t matter.” 

She was silent for a few seconds, being employed 


A Call from Airy 


181 


in a search among her patched and darned but clean 
garments for a rag of a handkerchief, as white as 
the morsel of linen peeping from the Judge's own 
pocket. 

“And what steps have you taken in the matter?" 
inquired the Judge, knowing that he was expected 
to take an interest in this question of ladyhood. 

“Fust of all, I've quit work," she replied. “What 
air you laughin' at?" for the Judge was unable to 
conceal his amusement. 

“Just at the idea of a lazy lady," he replied; “go 
on, please." 

“Did I say I was goin' to be lazy?" she returned, 
fiercely. “I’ve just stopped shopgirlin' it, but I'm 
a-studyin' like sixty." 

“O, going to school?" 

“Yes, sir. Onct before I went, before I got into 
Moses & Brown's big Dry Goods Emporium — all 
the latest fashions in ladies' neckwear, underwear, 
street wear, house wear, weddin' wear, funeral wear, 
summer wear, winter wear, an’ so on." 

The Judge drew a long breath. “Indeed!" 

“Yes, I'm a-schoolin' it. I tell you, when I saw 
where Bethany had come, an' when that boy of yours 
come hurryin' down River Street with books an’ 
things for us an' hurryin' off again like as we was 
poisoned, I begun to think, ‘It's time I was lookin' 
higher.' " 

A doubtful expression passed over the Judge's 
face, but instead of resenting it she went hurriedly 
on : “So the next time Barry Mafferty comes in, says 
I to him, 'Barry, I wants to be a lady.’ Says he, 
Then quit yer shop an' go to school, an’ I'll teach 


Princess Sukey 


182 

you Latin an’ French, ’cause you’ll not get them in 
the fust grades of the public.’ An’ he gave me a 
book. I can say mensa now — mensa, mensa, mensa, 
mensam , mensa , mensa . Mensa, mensarum, mensis, 
mensas, mensa, mensis. An’ musa, too,” and she 
glibly rattled off the declension of musa. 

“And do you know what musa means?” inquired 
the Judge, somewhat helplessly, when she at last 
paused for want of breath. 

u Musa, amuse,” she replied, quickly. 

“And what is a muse?” pursued the Judge. 

“You don’t know what amuse is at your time of 
life!” she said, sharply. “Come on, now, you’re 
just foolin’ me.” 

“Ask Mafferty to tell you about the Muses the 
next time you go to him,” said the Judge. “At 
present you have a wrong idea of the meaning of 
the word.” 

“Hev I ?” she said, sharply. “I’ll find out better. 
Want to hear some French?” 

“If you like,” replied the Judge, politely. 

“Javvey, tawey, lawey, nouzaviong, vouzaviez, 
ilzong. Do you know what that means?” 

“I can guess,” replied her friend, calmly. 

“You want ter laugh,” she said, suddenly; 
“you’re bustin’, I can see, but wait till I’m gone. I 
hate to be larfed at.” 

The Judge guiltily hung his head. 

“Now,” she said, in a businesslike way, “I don’t 
want yer for teachin’ me French nor langwidges, 
nor grammar. What I wants is ladyness from yer. 
Come on, now, what’s the fust thing in bein’ a 
lady?” 


A Call from Airy 183 

She was intensely, terribly in earnest, and the 
Judge braced up. 

“Well,” he said, seriously, “first of all, before I 
can give you one single word of advice, I want to 
know what you intend to make of young ladyhood — 
providing you attain to it.” 

“Don’t understand all yer big words,” she said, 
“but I catches yer meanin’. What do I want to 
be a lady for? I wants to be a lady so as to make 
you an’ other men stand round.” 

“Very good,” murmured the Judge; “but go on, 
pray.” 

“What does you care for me now?” she said, dis- 
dainfully. “My name’s mud to you. I’m a River 
Street rat. Aint it so?” 

“Well,” said the Judge, in a puzzled voice, “you 
are so extreme that I will have to qualify your 
statement.” 

“It’s true,” she said, grimly, “you ’spises me. 
That makes me mad, ’cause I know the Lord made 
us both. That my mother has taught me, an’ I 
believe her. The Lord loves me as much as he loves 
you, but that don’t satisfy me. I’m goin’ to make 
you love me, too.” 

The Judge shuddered, despite himself. This little 
sharp-voiced, bad-tempered, ambitious, plain-fea- 
tured specimen of humanity was extremely repellent 
to him. It was really an act of Christian charity 
on his part to sit and listen to her. 

But he must subdue his dislike. The poor little 
creature was unhappy. If he sent her away uncom- 
forted and unaided he would have a sleepless night. 
Happily or unhappily for himself, he had so hu- 


Princess Sukey 


184 

mored his conscience through life that he was 
obliged slavishly to obey its dictates or suffer the 
consequences. 

Therefore he said, kindly, “What other object 
have you in becoming a lady besides that of making 
men stand round ?” 

“I wants to help my mother,” she said, solemnly, 
“an’ get her out of River Street. I wants a little 
home out among the fields for her where the ’lectrics 
run past an' she can come in town fer her shoppin’. 
She’s a faithful mother, sir; she’s brought us up 
good.” 

The Judge’s eyes filled with tears. Poor little, 
weak, frail creature, and yet not weak, for a noble 
spirit animated her sickly body. 

“Now I am with you, my girl,” he exclaimed. 
“Now I will help you, for this aspiration is noble.” 

The touch of sympathy caused a smile to break 
over her face. “An’ the children, sir,” she said, 
“could play. There’s grass out there where they 
could play. There aint no grass on River Street.” 

“Don’t they play in the park that Mrs. Everest 
got for the River Street children?” 

“O, yes, sir, but there be so many feet an’ so 
little grass. It’s all tramped down afore it has time 
to grow. Now, sir, please tell me, for I must be 
goin’, what is the fust thing, in your opinion, to be 
a lady?” 

The Judge considered a minute, then he said: 
“Let us take your call in sections. When you came 
in the house I heard your voice away up here shrill 
and insistent. Now, what was there unladylike 
about that?” 


A Call from Airy 185 

“I ought to ’a’ spoke low,” she said, eagerly, 
“soft an’ low.” 

“A real lady always speaks in a sweet voice, my 
child. Don’t scream when talking.” 

“The real ladies did that when they come a-shop- 
pin’,” she replied. “They said, ‘Please show me 
some white lace/ jus’ as soft as milk.” 

“Then take that as your first rule,” said the Judge. 
“Pitch your voice low. Next I would say that your 
manner was aggressive when you came in.” 

“An’ what are you tryin’ to give me there?” she 
said, quickly. “What’s aggressive?” 

The Judge was intensely amused. Her words 
were rude, but so well had she remembered his ad- 
vice that her voice was pitched in a low, almost a 
sweet, key. 

“Rule two,” he observed, “be respectful. Now, 
I am a much older person than you. You should 
not address me in the rude, flippant tone in which 
you address a street urchin. But I am perhaps 
wrong here. In the course of my life I have ob- 
served how popular are the persons who have 
respect for everyone — even their own servants. One 
human being has no right to treat another human 
being with disrespect. Just wait a minute and I will 
give you an object lesson,” and getting up he rang 
the bell. 

Presently there was a knock at the door. 

“You hear that?” he said to Airy. “The maid 
knocks at the door of this room because it is not a 
public but a private room. She knocks at our bed- 
room doors also. She does not knock at the dining 
room or the parlor door. That is one way of being 


1 86 


Princess Sukey 


respectful. Now see how politely she will answer 
me when she enters,” and he said in a clear voice, 
“Come in.” 

Jennie stepped inside and stood in her neat gown 
and white apron looking expectantly at him. 

“Has a parcel come for me this evening from the 
druggist's?” inquired the Judge. 

“Yes, sir, quite a large parcel. Would you like 
to have it here ?” 

“No, thank you; in my bedroom.” 

“Very well, sir. Is that all?” 

“Yes, Jennie; but no — go to the sitting room and 
ask Master Dallas to come here.” 

“Certainly, sir,” and with a pleasant look she 
closed the door and went away. 

The Judge looked at Airy. Her lips were parted, 
her eyes were intense. 

“Now you will see a polite, respectful boy,” he 
said, and at that instant there was another knock 
at the door. 

“Come in,” said the Judge, and Dallas appeared. 

“My boy,” said the Judge, “this young girl is 
a daughter of a woman who was very kind to 
Bethany.” 

Dallas turned to Airy and made her such an ex- 
quisite bow that she caught her breath and gasped, 
“O, my!” 

The Judge bit his lip. “Miss Airy Tingsby and 
Mr. Dallas de Warren. Now you will know each 
other the next time you meet. How have you 
been getting on with your studies this evening, 
Dallas?” 

“Very well, sir, though perhaps not as well as 


A Call from Airy 187 

usual, on account of the Higby affair. It amused 
Titus.” 

“Will you give Miss Airy an account of it?” said 
the Judge. “It is not polite for two persons to talk 
before a third of something that he or she does not 
understand.” 

In a perfectly calm and courteous way Dallas, 
without appearing to notice that his new acquaint- 
ance belonged to one of the poorest classes in soci- 
ety, gave her an account of the unfortunate Higby’s 
fright. 

Airy hung on his words in entranced silence. 
Never before in her young life had anyone addressed 
her with so much deference. A delightful sensation 
ran through her veins. She could have sat till mid- 
night listening to that mellifluous voice. 

“And now we must not keep you,” said the Judge, 
when Dallas, having finished his recital, turned to 
him. “By the way, though, what are you reading 
in Latin just now?” 

“The first book of the iEneid, sir.” 

“You find it interesting?” 

“Intensely so, sir. iEneas had so many adven- 
tures.” 

“This young girl is also studying Latin,” said the 
Judge. “Airy, can you decline mensa for Dallas?” 

In a low, gentle voice, and with a manner so full 
of caution that it was almost terrified, Airy got 
through her task with credit to herself and her 
friend. Dallas listened politely and showed not a 
sign of a smile. 

After she finished he thanked her, and then turned 
to the Judge again, who dismissed him by a smile. 


Princess Sukey 


i 88 

“I will say good-night, sir,” said Dallas, “then I 
will not need to disturb you later on.” 

“Very well, good-night,” and the Judge extended 
a hand. 

Dallas shook hands with him, bowed to Airy, and 
left the room. 

The little girl drew a long breath and rose to her 
feet. “Pve had enough for to-night. Sir, if ever 
I get rich and you get poor, just you come to me an’ 
I’ll help you.” 

The Judge smiled mournfully. Poor child — how 
easy to bridge the gulf between them by words, and 
yet she was an apt pupil. 

“You are a little girl to be out alone in the even- 
ing,” he said. “By the way, how old are you ?” 

“Thirteen, sir; ’most fourteen.” 

“How are you going to get home ?” 

“Some one is waitin’ for me, sir, across the street. 
He’s a boy does odd jobs for us. When can I come 
agin, sir?” she went on, eagerly. 

“When would you like to come ?” 

“Say this night week, sir. I’ll hev to shine up my 
manners till then. My ! but it’ll be hard not to yell 
in River Street. It’s easy enough to be soft here, 
’cause you’ve no one to yell at you.” 

“This night week, then,” replied the Judge; 
“good-bye.” 

“Good-bye, sir,” and to his amusement she awk- 
wardly shook hands with him, then darted from the 
room like a bird. 

“I’ll have to teach her to go slowly next lesson,” 
said the Judge, with a smile, and leisurely stepping 
into the hall he looked out of the window. 


A Call from Airy 189 

Airy was just joining her escort, or escorts, for 
there were two. To the Judge’s dismay the electric 
light across the street shone full on the faces of 
Brick, the colored boy, and the spotted dog. 

Both had probably spent the last hour in front 
of his house, and Bethany was only a few steps 
away. Suppose she had gone to the window; and 
retracing his steps the Judge went into his study 
and sitting down began to think over the visit he 
had just had. 

The tablecloth waving violently attracted his at- 
tention. “Hello, little girl,” he said, affectionately, 
“come out. Daddy Grandpa is alone.” 

There was no response beyond a continuance of 
low growling. 

The Judge had made a mistake. It was not Beth- 
any under the table ; it was Bylow. 

“Good dog,” he said, “come here.” 

She immediately crawled out on all fours, snap- 
ping and snarling at every object she passed, and 
accompanied by Sukey, who also was in a bad tem- 
per and pecked at everything near her. 

On Bethany’s way to the Judge she suddenly 
caught sight of a piece of wrapping paper that had 
come round a book and had fallen to the floor. 
Seizing it in her hands, she tore it to pieces. The 
Judge thought that her small teeth also aided in 
the work of destruction. Not till the paper was 
in ribbons, and she herself was damp with perspira- 
tion from the violence of her emotion, did she give 
up her dog incarnation and become demure little 
Bethany again. 

The Judge stared. He had never seen her in a 


Princess Sukey 


190 

rage before. However, she was quite self-possessed 
now, and putting the grumbling pigeon in her basket 
and seating herself beside her she began softly to 
stroke and smooth her disturbed feathered friend. 

After a time she addressed a gentle remark to the 
Judge over her shoulder. “So you have had ‘Airy 
Mary, so contrary,’ here this evening?” 

“Yes, I have,” he returned. “Why did you not 
stay out and see her ; don’t you like her ?” 

“Airy once slapped Bethany,” she remarked, med- 
itatively. 

The Judge made no reply. Evidently the two 
girls were not affinities. 

“Annie never slapped Bethany,” the child pres- 
ently remarked. 

Annie, the Judge knew, was Mrs. Tingsby’s sec- 
ond daughter. However, once more he did not feel 
called upon to give an expression of opinion, and 
Bethany went on : “To-night week I shall go to the 
country with Ellen and Susie.” 

The Judge rang the bell. “Jennie,” he said, when 
the parlor maid appeared, “here is a little girl that 
wants to go to bed.” 

Bethany got up sweetly. She kissed Sukey good- 
night, then she went to the Judge and threw her 
arms round his neck. “Good-night, dear Daddy 
Grandpa.” 

“Good-night, my child,” he responded, and as he 
spoke he felt how dear indeed the little affectionate, 
jealous creature had become to him. 

She seemed to part from him with reluctance. 
However, she took Jennie’s hand agreeably enough, 
but in the doorway she turned and fired a parting 


A Call from Airy 


191 

shot that immensely amused the unfortunate man 
attacked. 

“Daddy Grandpa/’ she said, sternly, “ladies is 
born, not made,” then she disappeared with Jennie. 

The Judge sat down in his big chair, alone at 
last with what remnant of calm these children had 
left him. Which was the more remarkable, Beth- 
any or Airy? Bethany with her queer, old-fash- 
ioned, precocious, yet strangely childlike ways, or 
the bitter, repellent Airy? 

How strange that through his life he had heard 
so little about child study! He must find out what 
books there were on the subject. However, books 
or no books, these children bade fair to make a 
psychologist of him. 


CHAPTER XV 
A Drive with the Judge 

A few days later the Judge stood at the foot of 
the staircase leading up to the children's rooms and 
inwardly wondered. 

Bethany was kneeling down on the top step. “O, 
Lord, forgive me for what I am about to do,” she 
prayed, piously; then she unclasped her hands and 
took in them a crumpled handkerchief. 

The Judge still stared. She had her dress pinned 
up, a towel fastened round her waist, sleeves rolled 
back, and beside her on the step a little tin can and 
a cake of Hittaker’s soap. 

What was she going to do? and the Judge waited. 

She was washing down the steps, and as she 
washed she softly sang to herself a homemade ditty : 

“Ellen and Susie they’re with me right here; 

Wash little maid, wash the steppies so clear, 

Wash for the Judge, and for Titus the boy, 

So will you fill their dear hearts with joy.” 

“She is cleaning the steps,” said the Judge to 
himself, “and is enjoying it. Mrs. Blodgett has 
probably gone downtown, and after asking the Lord 
to forgive her she has yielded to temptation. It 
would be a shame to interrupt, seeing she enjoys it 
so much,” and with a broad smile on his face he sat 
down on the lowest step and waited. 

As Bethany was coming down backward she did 


A Drive with the Judge 193 

not see him until her hand, going out sideways, de- 
posited the tin pail on his knees. 

“O !” she exclaimed, and giving a great start she 
straightened herself. 

There were beads of perspiration on her forehead 
and upper lip, and her cheeks were flushed. 

“There !” she said at last, and she gazed compos- 
edly at the Judge, “I knew Satan would catch me.” 

“Thank you,” he replied, quietly. 

“O, Daddy Grandpa,” she cried, repentantly, 
“you don’t think I meant you — ” 

“What are you doing?” he asked, disregarding 
her question. 

“Well,” she said, wearily, “I saw a little dust on 
these steps at lunch time, and I’ve been just crazy 
to wash them, just crazy.” 

“What have you been doing it with ?” he inquired. 

She uncurled her hand, and showed the wet, 
crumpled handkerchief. “It’s a very old one,” she 
said, anxiously, “quite full of holes. I hadn’t any 
cloth to dry the steps, so I just blew softly as I 
sang — I s’pose I’ve got to be punished,” she said, 
miserably. 

“Let me see first how you have done them,” said 
the Judge, trying to speak sternly, and getting up 
he walked to the top of the staircase. 

The child had done her work thoroughly. There 
was not a particle of dust to be seen. Every square 
inch not covered by carpet had been carefully 
cleaned. 

“Well,” he said, as he slowly came downstairs, 
“for punishment I order you to wash them down 
each day until further orders.” 


Princess Sukey 


194 

She gave him a roguish smile. “Now, Daddy 
Grandpa, you know that is no punishment. You are 
just pretending.” 

“Well,” he went on, “as that would be no punish- 
ishment, I order you for work, or play, or what- 
ever you call it, to wash these steps down once a 
week, and for penalty you will not be allowed to go 
for a drive with me for three days.” 

Her eyes filled with tears. “Three days, Daddy 
Grandpa — not two, not one?” 

“No, three,” he said, decidedly, “three whole 
days.” 

She wiped her eyes with the towel about her waist. 
“The time will seem long, but I deserve it. I was 
very bad. Mrs. Blodgett has gone shopping, and I 
thought that you were asleep, and Satan tempted 
me. I thought he was laying a trap, but I gave in 
to him.” 

“Bethany,” said the Judge, kindly, “you were 
wrong to do what was forbidden, but since you enjoy 
a little housework I will get Mrs. Blodgett to relax 
that rule, and give you some easy things to do.” 

“Daddy Grandpa,” she said, seizing one of his 
large white hands and pressing it to her lips, “if 
you had wings you’d be an angel.” 

He smiled amiably, and went to get ready for his 
drive. 

“O, little pail,” said Bethany, seizing the tin, “O, 
little pail, I am glad he did not take you from me. 
I was afraid that would be my punishment.” 

“What are you talking about up there ?” inquired 
the Judge from the hall below, where he was put- 
ting on his coat. 


A Drive with the Judge 195 

Bethany took a few steps forward and put her 
head over the balusters. 

“I was just telling Bobby that I am glad you did 
not take him from me.” 

“And who is Bobby?” 

“Bobby is one of the little pails we used to get our 
butter in. You know that poor people do not eat 
the kind of butter that you do, Daddy Grandpa. 
Ours was whiter, and it did not taste like Cloverdale 
butter. When we went to the grocer’s I always said 
we were going to buy a Bobby of butter.” 

The Judge made no remark, but he wrinkled his 
forehead as he went to the hall door. 

“A fowl in the pot for every man on Sunday,” a 
good French king is reported to have said, and 
“Cloverdale butter for every citizen in Riverport,” 
the good Judge wished in his heart. 

He had a lonely drive. How much he enjoyed 
having the little prattler by his side! for Bethany 
talked a good deal when she was out with him. 
There were so many objects of interest to inquire 
about, and having perfect confidence in him she 
never failed to extend her fund of knowledge when 
with him. Poor little gropers after truth! How 
much the children had to learn ! How many ques- 
tions they must ask of the, to them, omniscient 
grown-up ones, before they were sufficiently 
equipped for the battle of life! 

On the second day of Bethany’s punishment the 
Judge, as he was going down to the sleigh, met 
Dallas on the front steps. 

“It is a beautiful day,” he said ; “don’t you want 
to come for a drive ?” 


Princess Sukey 


196 

A flush of pleasure crept over the boy’s face. 

“Yes, sir, very much; will you be good enough 
to wait till I put these books in the house ?” 

The Judge nodded, and Dallas ran into the 
house. 

“How is it that you carry books?” inquired the 
Judge when he came out. “I never see Titus with 
any.” 

“He has a set at home and one in school,” said 
Dallas, quietly, as they got into the sleigh. 

“And why have not you the same ?” 

“I thought, sir, that it was sufficient for you to 
buy me one set. I carry mine.” 

The Judge was touched by this mark of the boy's 
thoughtfulness, and for a few minutes he said noth- 
ing. Then he turned round. “Buy another lot — 
have just what Titus has.” 

Dallas gave him a peculiar glance. It certainly 
was not an ungrateful one. 

The Judge gazed at him more steadfastly. How 
well the boy looked in his heavy black coat and dark 
fur cap ! He was stouter, too, than when he came. 
Already good living and freedom from care were 
beginning to show a favorable influence upon him. 
But what about the soul? And the Judge peered 
more earnestly than ever at him. A good outside 
was a fine thing, but the inner things of the heart 
were what counted, and the elderly man made up 
his mind to ask a few questions. However, at first 
he learned all he could from the exterior. 

The boy sat beside him very quietly, but his face 
was proud. “Now that I think of it,” reflected the 
Judge, “this is his first appearance in public with me. 


A Drive with the Judge 197 

This doffing of hats and bowing from well dressed 
people flatters his boyish vanity.” 

“Dallas,” he said, aloud, “would you like to be 
popular ?” 

“Yes, sir,” he replied, with a smile. 

“And rich?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Do you believe that riches bring happiness?” 

“No, sir.” 

“What do you want to be in life? Have you 
chosen a calling — a profession?” 

The boy gave him a hesitating glance, and the 
Judge delicately changed his question. “Have you 
ever thought of being an actor, as your father 
was ?” 

The boy shuddered. “O, no, no !” 

“Why not? Don’t you approve of the profes- 
sion ?” 

Dallas hesitated a minute, then he said, “It’s not 
bad for those who get on ; it’s awful for those who 
don’t.” 

“Would you put your father in the latter class?” 

“Yes, sir, but in this way only. He had poor 
health. If he had been strong he would have made 
his mark. He had brains and application enough to 
succeed. With his last breath he begged me not to 
follow his profession. Even if I wished to do so, 
that would keep me from it.” 

The Judge made no comment, and presently Dal- 
las went on: “I have been behind the scenes, sir. 
I suppose the public must have theaters, but they’re 
hard on girls and young men.” 

“In what way?” asked the Judge, quietly. 


Princess Sukey 


198 

“Well, sir/’ said the boy, bitterly, “when a person 
goes on the stage his or her home goes to smash.” 

The Judge made no reply, and Dallas went on 
with animation: “If I had my way, I’d have no 
army, no navy, no anything that took men out of 
their homes. I suppose you’ve always had a home, 
sir.” 

The Judge smiled. 

“Then you don’t know what it is to live in a 
boarding house — to share everything in common 
with people that you often despise. Why, sir, when 
I come home from school and go upstairs to that 
little sitting room where Titus and I study, and shut 
the door, and feel that it is ours, I am in paradise.” 

“But you have to come downstairs and eat and 
drink with the family,” said the Judge, in amuse- 
ment. 

“Ah!” said the boy, with his handsome face 
aglow, “but you are my own people now. I like to 
be with you.” 

“Dallas,” said the Judge, abruptly, “tell me what 
you would like to be when you become a man.” 

The boy grew somewhat less animated. “You 
won’t be vexed with me for being too ambitious?” 
he said, hesitatingly. 

“Not unless you aspire to the Presidency.” 

“Sir, I do not aspire to that, but I do wish to be 
a doctor.” 

“Ah! to study medicine — you are fond of your 
books. I see that.” 

“The only thing that troubles me,” continued 
Dallas, with some embarrassment, “is that one’s 
studies are long and expensive. I feel that I ought 


A Drive with the Judge 199 

to choose something like a clerkship, so I should not 
be so long a burden on you.” 

“You shall be a doctor,” said the Judge, promptly. 
“You have done well to speak your mind frankly 
and honestly. How old are you now?” 

“Sixteen, sir.” 

“Just two years older than Titus, though you are 
much taller. It is well for a boy to choose his 
vocation in life as early as possible. Then he can 
prepare for it. You know what Titus wishes to be ?” 

“Yes, sir — a farmer.” 

“I can’t gainsay him. I believe in getting back 
to the soil. He wants a stock farm, and already I 
am beginning to get things in shape for him. Rob- 
lee,” and the Judge spoke to the coachman, “drive 
out toward Cloverdale.” 

“I have bought a hundred and fifty acres of land,” 
the Judge continued, “and have a young man in 
charge. We have not time to go all the way there 
to-day, but you will see in what direction it is. Have 
you been out this way before ?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Have you not been driving at all since you came 
to Riverport?” 

“No, sir.” 

“How is that?” 

“Well, Titus does not care for driving, as you 
know, and I did not care to ask.” 

“But you like it?” 

“Indeed I do,” he said, earnestly. 

“Then you must often come with me and Beth- 
any. Poor little soul, she is doing penance to-day.” 

“Yes, I saw her going for a walk with Jennie, 


200 


Princess Sukey 


with a very downcast face/’ said Dallas with a slight 
smile. Then he fell into a reverie. 

What a happy boy he was ! What good fortune 
had been his when he fell into the hands of this 
kind, agreeable, yet strong man! How much he 
admired him! and he stole a glance at the Judge’s 
quiet face. 

They were gliding along over a country road now. 
How comfortable they were in their luxurious fur- 
lined seat, with warm robes over them, and their 
feet on the Judge’s long foot-warmer! The sleigh 
was an open one, and on each side of them, and 
before and behind, they had an uninterrupted view 
of a beautiful, snow-covered country. 

Occasionally they met a farmer jogging along 
on his wood-sled, or going swiftly in a single-seated 
sleigh behind a substantial, heavy-footed country 
horse. There were also a few sleighs from the city. 

Everybody knew the Judge, and if a lady bowed 
to him Dallas, in suppressed delight, also saluted 
her by touching his fur cap. How he enjoyed recog- 
nition ! When he was a man he would wish for no 
better enjoyment than this — to drive along the 
street and have everyone greet him with respect. 
But he must work hard for it at first, and he cast 
a side glance at the Judge’s white head. Charlie 
Brown had told him that the Judge as a young man 
had worked like a slave to master the intricacies of 
commercial law, bankruptcy law, international law, 
criminal law, and many other kinds of law that 
Dallas could not remember. He would work, too, 
and he set his young mouth firmly and looked 
straight ahead. 


201 


A Drive with the Judge 

The Judge was murmuring, “God made the coun- 
try and man made the town”; then he said aloud, 
“Just look at the sun behind that grove of spruces, 
Dallas.” 

“Beautiful!” said the boy, and then the Judge, 
taking out his watch, said regretfully, “We must 
turn. Home, Roblee.” 

They scarcely spoke until they reached Grand 
Avenue. When they were slipping past the fine 
houses that bordered it Dallas turned to the Judge. 
“I thank you, sir, for this drive. I have enjoyed 
it immensely.” 

The Judge's keen eyes sought his face. “My 
boy,” he said, kindly, and he stretched out one of 
his fur-clad hands and laid it on Dallas's knee, 
“you must often accompany me and the little girl 
on our daily drives.” 

The Judge's benevolent face was luminous in the 
setting sun. He was proving himself to be a real 
father to the boy. Something choked in Dallas's 
throat. He bent his head lower, lower, till a sudden 
ecstasy made him seize the Judge’s hand and press 
it warmly in his own. 

“Just look at that new boy of the Judge's,” ex- 
claimed Charlie Brown's mother as she stood at one 
of the upper windows of the house, staring at the 
Judge in adoration. “What is it about that man that 
makes everyone like him ?” 

“Good temper,” growled her rather short-tem- 
pered spouse, who was sitting near her, his head 
buried in a newspaper. 

Dallas's first drive with the Judge was on the 
first day of Bethany's punishment; his second one 


202 


Princess Sukey 


was on the second day of retribution, and his third 
was on the day rendered ever memorable to the 
Judge by the fulfillment of one of his worst fears. 
He wished, but too late, that Bethany had had no 
punishment, that he had forgiven the sin of step- 
washing, and had taken her with himself and Dallas. 


CHAPTER XVI 

The Spotted Dog Again 

The Judge and the boy were just arriving gayly 
home from a most enjoyable drive. They had been 
driving, not in the direction of Cloverdale, but away 
down the frozen river as it silently wound toward 
the sea. 

Dallas had sprung out of the sleigh, and was 
standing respectfully aside waiting for the Judge to 
alight, when the big hall door flew open and little 
Bethany appeared, being held back, however, by the 
protesting Jennie. 

Her face was absolutely beatific, and she called 
out clearly, “O, Daddy Grandpa, I’ve got the joy- 
fullest surprise for you !” 

The Judge, with an affectionate glance at her, 
began to ascend the steps in his usual Signified way. 

‘‘Now I have something to thank Satan for,” con- 
tinued Bethany, dancing in Jennie’s resolute grasp. 
“Now I could almost love the naughty creature.” 

The Judge had reached her now, and she broke 
away from Jennie and clung to him. “I missed 
my drives most dreadfully. Jennie took me for a 
walk the day before yesterday, Jennie took me for a 
walk yesterday, Jennie took me for a walk to-day, 
and what do you think I found?” 

“Come inside, child, come inside; you will take 
cold,” said the Judge, and he motioned to Jennie to 
close the big front door. 


204 


Princess Sukey 


“There they are — what I found,” screamed Beth- 
any. “O, I am a thankful little girl to Satan for 
tempting me that day, ’cause if he hadn’t tempted 
me I’d not have walked with Jennie, and if I 
hadn’t walked with Jennie I’d never have found 
my sweet colored boy and my precious, precious 
Bylow.” 

The Judge groaned inwardly. Sure enough, in 
the middle of the hall stood the grinning colored 
boy and the ugly yellow spotted dog. 

The Judge preserved a calm exterior, though the 
colored boy called warningly, “Keep back, sah — 
you’s got on a good coat, and he do hate fine does. 
I’ll hang on to him,” and with might and main he 
pulled back on the dirty brown strap about the dog’s 
neck. 

Dallas, not as wary as the Judge, went nearer, 
and was saluted by a snap from the dog’s powerful 
jaws that made him jump in the air. 

“O, Bylow, Bylow!” cried Bethany, in dismay, 
and to the Judge’s great disapprobation she threw 
her arms round the snapping dog. “My precious 
dog, you must not be so bad.” 

The dog put out a long red tongue and lapped 
her forehead. 

“Bethany,” said the Judge, “come here.” 

“O, Daddy Grandpa!” she exclaimed, fairly 
throwing herself at him. “Bethany is ’most dead 
with joy, and I knew you’d be dead, too.” 

In face of so much enthusiasm and such perfect 
trust in his hearty cooperation, the Judge felt that 
it would be very hard to disappoint the child, but 
he was firm on the subject of vicious animals. 



“In the middle of the hall stood the grinning colored boy 
and the ugly yellow spotted dog.” 





The Spotted Dog Again 205 

“Boy,” he said to the grinning Brick, “what is 
the matter with that dog?” 

“Your does, sah — turn your coat, sah, jes’ for 
fun — you’ll not see no teeth, sah. He’ll jus’ love 
you. Look-y-here — ” and he pointed to a most dis- 
reputable-looking figure descending the staircase 
from the floor above. 

The Judge somewhat helplessly took off his heavy 
coat and threw it over a chair. These children 
were turning his house upside down. That was a 
tramp coming downstairs — a tramp, pure and sim- 
ple. But what was it — a snicker from young Jennie 
notified him that there was mystery afoot. 

The supposed tramp was apparently youthful, 
but his rags were so clean and evidently so freshly 
made that the Judge became suspicious, and then 
that smooth, dark young chin and the red lips under 
the battered hat — surely they belonged to his grand- 
son Titus. The old bathrobe, too, he thought he rec- 
ognized as one of his own. What nonsense was this? 

Bethany was laughing and clapping her hands, 
Dallas was giggling, and Brick was grinning more 
alarmingly than ever. “Come on, young sah — he’ll 
jus’ eat you up wid kindness — no feah in dat dress. 
Come on, come on — I’se loosin’ him,” and he let the 
dog go. 

The creature with the hideous yellow spots actu- 
ally ran toward Titus with his mouth open, but 
instead of devouring him he fawned on him, licked 
him, and soon was romping all over the hall with 
him. 

“Titus,” said his grandfather, “stop this noise 
and explain your actions to me.” 


20 6 


Princess Sukey 


Titus drew up in front of him, and, still holding 
the dog, who was playfully biting at his fingers, 
gave his old hat a blow that sent it spinning into 
a corner of the hall. Then he said breathlessly, 
“This is the queerest dog you ever saw, grandfather. 
He hates well dressed people. When he came he 
ripped down the seam of my trousers. Brick told 
me to go and dress up like a tramp, and see the 
difference. You know Brick has been a tramp’s 
boy.” 

“A what?” inquired the Judge. 

“A boy that goes about with a tramp — you’ve 
heard of them, grandfather. He waits on the 
tramp. Bylow went with him, and he hates well 
dressed people and nice houses.” 

“Then his place is plainly not here,” observed 
the Judge, but under his breath, for fear of Beth- 
any, who was now ecstatically smoothing the col- 
ored boy’s coat and sleeve. 

“So your name is Brick,” he said, addressing the 
stranger. 

“Yes, sah,” and Brick showed every tooth in his 
head. 

His color was indeed somewhat brickish. The 
Judge had never seen a colored boy of just this 
shade before, and he suspected keenly that he had 
not been washed for some time. 

“You like this little girl?” he said, indicating 
Bethany. 

“She nice little girl, sah,” responded the boy, 
opening his mouth so alarmingly wide that the 
Judge saw not only his whole stock of teeth, but 
such an expanse of pink gums, tongue, and throat 


The Spotted Dog Again 207 

that he gazed at them in mild fascination. His 
words were fairly swallowed up in this pink gulf. 

“She nice little girl,” Brick continued. “She 
good to dogs an’ cats. I like dogs meself. Me an' 
Bylow’s great friends,” and he nodded toward the 
dog, which had calmed down and was lying at his 
feet panting and with half-shut eyes. 

“Daddy Grandpa,” said Bethany, in sudden 
anxiety, “where are they going to sleep ? O, where 
are they going to sleep ?” 

The Judge put up a hand and vigorously stroked 
his mustache. He knew Bethany’s generous heart 
prompted her to wish for them the best in the house. 

“Well,” he replied, kindly, “we’re pretty well 
filled up inside, but there’s a good room out in the 
stable opposite Roblee’s.” 

“Daddy Grandpa,” she said, timidly, “there’s 
the big spare room — the blue velvet room with the 
gilt furniture.” 

“My friend Colonel Hansom is to occupy that 
next week,” said the Judge. “It would be awk- 
ward to turn out the boy for him.” 

Brick was exploding with laughter. He was a 
good deal older than Bethany and appreciated the 
situation perfectly. 

“I guess we’s all right in the stable, missie,” he 
said, with a snicker. “Bylow an’ me’s used to sleep- 
in’ with hosses. Then we can guard you when the 
bogies come about. There’s lots of bogies these 
days,” and his eyes grew round, and he rolled them 
wildly to and fro. 

“Did you see many out West?” asked the little 
girl, in an awestruck voice. 


208 


Princess Sukey 


“The air was thick with ’em, missie. They jus’ 
called me an’ Bylow till we didn’t know which way 
fer to go.” 

“Help! Help! Mum-mum-murder!” yelled a 
sudden voice. 

“Blow that ’ere, Bylow !” muttered Brick, and he 
made a dart for the back stairway. “If he aint 
sneaked away!” 

Titus and Dallas dashed after him, while little 
Bethany, twisting her tiny hands in dismay, brought 
up the rear with the Judge. 

“It’s Higby,” she said, tearfully. “I told Titus 
to tell him to put on old clothes. I suppose Titus 
forgot. O, dear, dear!” 

“Mum-mum-murder,” went on the voice, “help; 
there’s something caught m-m-me behind. M-m- 
missis Blodgett! Girls!” 

“We’re coming,” called Titus, at the top of the 
stairway; “hold on.” 

“Ca-ca-catch the dishes, some one,” wailed Hig- 
by. “O ! law — law — law me ! There they go !” 

There was a terrible clatter of falling china, and 
then Higby’s voice rose higher and shriller than 
ever. 

“H-h-he’s got m-m-me by the leg. O ! O ! O ! he’s 
a rippin’ me! Help, I say, help!” 

The boys dashed valiantly down the stairway. 
Brick caught the dog by the neck. Higby, true to 
his habit of backing when agonizing for words, 
promptly stepped out behind, and fell in a heap on 
Brick, Bylow, and the broken china. Titus and 
Dallas, nearly choking with laughter, wrestled with 
the man, dog, and colored boy to get them on their 


The Spotted Dog Again 


209 


feet, while Mrs. Blodgett and the maids rushed 
from the kitchen and stood with horror-stricken 
faces. 

“Boys,” said the Judge’s voice from the top of the 
stairway, “boys !” and his voice brought calm to the 
situation. 

“Yes, sir,” gasped Titus, who was manfully plac- 
ing Higby against the wall and holding him there. 

“Take the colored boy to the stable,” pursued the 
Judge, “and get him to lock up that dog.” 

“Yes, sir — yes, sir,” replied Titus ; then he added, 
in an undertone, “Hush up, Higby.” 

“I ca-ca-can’t hush up,” whined Higby. “Look 
at my pa-pa-pants. Torn an’ hang-hang-hangin’ 
like a woman’s skirt. An’ them gir-gir-girls 
a-laughin’ !” 

It was, alas! too true! Finding that Higby was 
not hurt, and that his assailant was only a mis- 
chievous, medium-sized dog with his tongue lolling 
good-naturedly from his mouth, and that the china 
broken was not the best in the house, the maids were 
laughing heartily. 

“Get up to your room, then, and change your 
clothes,” said Titus, giving Higby a friendly push, 
“and you, boy,” and he beckoned to Brick, “come 
on out to the stable with me.” 

Bethany seized upon Higby as he came toward 
her and the Judge, and so bewailed his misfortune, 
and so sweetly comforted him, that the old man 
went on his way upstairs with a calmer face. 

“Hurry up,” said Titus to Brick. “I want to get 
you in your den before Roblee comes. He’s some- 
thing of a prig. Dallas, come on, too.” 


CHAPTER XVII 
Titus as a Philanthropist 

The two boys rushed Brick and the dog out to 
the stable. 

“This way,” said Titus, and he ran upstairs and 
opened the door of a small room opposite Roblee’s. 

“It used to be a harness room,” Titus explained, 
“but was fitted up once for a bedroom when that old 
goose Higby took measles and we had to isolate 
him. See, here is a bed, and table, and washstand. 
I’ll get Mrs. Blodgett to bring out some bedding by 
and by.” 

Brick looked about him with his tongue and eyes 
both going. “ ’Tis a boss place, sah. Me an’ By- 
low’s not slep’ in such a place, nevvah, no, nevvah.” 

“You see,” went on Titus, hurriedly, “as Miss 
Bethany is so bent on keeping you round for a time, 
I’d like to get my grandfather to have Roblee take 
you for a stable boy. He’s looking for one just 
now. He won’t like your color, but we’ll try to get 
some of that off you.” 

“You aint layin’ out fer to wash me, be you, 
young sah?” said Brick, anxiously. 

“Yes, you and the dog. You’re both too dirty 
to live.” 

Brick made a bolt for the door, but Titus got 
there before him and locked it. 

“No use to kick,” he said, grimly. “You’re a 


Titus as a Philanthropist 21 1 

likely-looking boy, and you’re a fool to tramp it. 
I’m going to keep you here for a while and try to 
make you halfway decent.” 

Brick went down on his knees. “O, lordy massy, 
don’t wash me, young sah.” 

Titus calmly took him by his collar. “Dallas, 
you’ll help me.” 

The English boy looked down at his handsome 
suit of clothes; however, he assented quietly. 

“All right,” said Titus, with a nod of understand- 
ing and good-fellowship, “I thought you would. 
Go in the house and get some old clothes of mine 
from my closet — not too old, mind — and a comb 
and brush and some decent soap and towels — lots 
of ’em ; and on your way here dash across the back 
way to Charlie Brown’s and get him to bring over 
that bathtub he uses for his Newfoundland dog. 
O, before you go,” he called, as Dallas was leaving 
the room, “turn on the heat.” 

Dallas went over to a radiator in the corner, then 
hurried away. 

Titus continued to hold Brick, who did not 
cease for one single minute to beg and pray for 
release. 

“You shan’t go,” said Titus, inexorably, “you 
dirty little beast. I’ve taken a fancy to you. You’ve 
got to stay here and be our stable boy, and you 
sha’nt be our stable boy till you’re clean. I tell you, 
Roblee would chuck you out in the snow. He’s 
cleaner than I am.” 

“I don’t want to stay, sah,” pleaded Brick, ear- 
nestly. “Water just pisons me. O, let me go back 
to River Street, me an’ Bylow,” and he gazed help- 


212 


Princess Sukey 


lessly at the dog, who had gone to the radiator and 
was lying calmly beside it. 

“It's for your good,” said Titus, earnestly. 
“Don’t you want to earn money and have a bank 
book ?” 

“Money, sah?” said Brick, eagerly. 

“Yes, lots of it — nice clean, rustling greenbacks. 
But you’ve got to work for it, my son. Hello! 
there they are !” 

Dallas and Charlie, with a great laughing and 
thumping, were dragging the bathtub upstairs. 

When the door was opened Charlie stuck in his 
head. “Thought I’d come, too — sounded as if there 
was going to be some fun.” 

“No, you don’t,” said Titus to Brick, who on see- 
ing the door open had tried to make a dash for lib- 
erty. Then he addressed the other boys. “Shut 
that door, quick. I don’t want this frog to jump. 
Now, look sharp — Roblee will soon be home, and I 
want this over before he comes.” 

“Where is he?” inquired Dallas. 

“Had to take the horses to the blacksmith. I say, 
fellows, put that tub here in the middle of the room. 
Now rush downstairs to the harness room and get 
a couple of pails. Then fill them at the hot water 
faucet and bring them up here.” 

Brick, with rolling eyes, watched the boys scut- 
tling to and fro. 

“Don’t be such a fool,” said Titus, gently shak- 
ing him. “Anyone would think we were going to 
hang you.” 

“Bylow,” said Brick, faintly, “sic ’em, sic ’em, 
good dog.” 


Titus as a Philanthropist 213 

By low turned his head. Titus was still in his 
tramp suit, Charlie Brown was considerably dis- 
heveled from working about his pigeon loft, and 
Dallas had taken the precaution, when he went into 
the house hastily to change his good suit of clothes 
for the one in which he had arrived at the Judge’s. 
Therefore they were a trio of pretty disreputable- 
looking boys, and Bylow, after a lazy look at them, 
glanced at his young master as if to say, “What are 
you worrying about? You are among friends.” 
Then he again lay down by the radiator and went to 
sleep. He knew that those laughing, chattering 
boys meant no harm to the shuddering Brick, and 
he took no thought for himself. 

“Now,” called Titus, “are you ready?” 

“Ay, ay, sir,” responded Charlie Brown. 

“Then help me undress the criminal,” said 
Titus. 

In five minutes Brick was seated in a tub of deli- 
ciously warm water, and three pairs of kind young 
hands were lathering him with soap. 

He gave one yell at first, then he sat still — and 
enjoyed it, if the truth must be told. 

“Is this a baf, young sah?” he squeaked, fear- 
fully. 

“Yes, it’s a ‘baf/” said Titus; “what did you 
think it was?” 

“I thought a baf was cold, sah. This be warm. 
O, law !” and he joyfully paddled with his 
hands. 

“Stop that,” said Titus, peremptorily; “you’re 
splashing us.” 

The boys worked like heroes, and in a terrible 


214 


Princess Sukey 


haste lest Roblee should return. Brick was rubbed 
and scrubbed, and at last Titus shouted, “Out with 
him and in with the dog.” 

“Young sah,” exclaimed Brick, “where's my 
does?” 

Shivering with excitement, he stood by the radi- 
ator, trying to rub himself with the towels that Titus 
had thrown to him. 

“Burnt up,” said Titus. “Master Dallas there 
took every rag down and chucked them in the 
furnace.” 

Brick gave a howl. “An' me five dollah gold 
piece sewed in the tail of me coat !” 

“Five dollar fiddlestick!” said Titus, energetic- 
ally. “Did you ever see such a darky ? He doesn't 
even know how to dry himself. Give him a rub 
down, Charlie, will you, while Dallas and I intro- 
duce the dog to the tub?” 

Bylow was a considerably astonished dog. He 
was no water dog, and the touch of water to his 
body was as distasteful to him as it had been at first 
to Brick. Titus flung a question over his shoulder 
at Brick. “Is he a biter?” 

“Sah,” said Brick, earnestly, “he aint no bitah. 
I nevvah knowed him to set his teeth in no one. 
He's just a rippah, sah.” 

“That's good,” said Titus; “come on, boys. I’ll 
hold and you scrub. Brick, get on that bed and 
cover yourself with those horse blankets. We’ll 
attend to you presently.” 

It took all three boys to manage the dog. His 
howls, his bounds, his cries were prodigious, but he 
did not once attempt to bite. He was as shrewd as 


Titus as a Philanthropist 215 

most dogs, and he knew that the hand on his collar 
was that of a master. 

He, unlike Brick, did not enjoy one minute of the 
bath. He did not care if the water was warm, and 
he struggled and kicked until the three boys were 
breathless. 

“My ! he’s a bounder,” exclaimed Charlie. “What 
a back ! How many breeds are there in him, colored 
boy?” 

“Don’t know, sah, but I’ve heard them say as 
knows that his fathah ought to ’a’ bin a bulldog, 
an’ his grandmothah were a pointah.” 

“Let him out,” ordered Dallas, “let him out; my 
back’s ’most broken.” 

“So is mine,” laughed Dallas, but he ran after the 
dog, which was shaking violently, and began to rub 
him dry. 

“Now for the fancy dress ball,” said Titus, and 
he began to pull at the heap of clothes that Dallas 
had brought out. “Stand up, Brick — here, put on 
that shirt.” 

Brick, grinning like a Chessy cat, took up the 
pink and white cotton shirt and ran his arms into it. 

“Here,” said Titus, and he threw him various 
other garments. “Not that way, owl — this way,” 
and he began to dress the boy himself. Then he 
turned to Dallas. “I say, old fellow, run in the 
house to my room and get that long mirror standing 
behind the door. I was trying a high kick the other 
day and broke it. Grandfather says he’ll get me 
another.” 

Dallas obligingly nodded, and his long legs speed- 
ily took him away from the stable. 


2l6 


Princess Sukey 


“H’m, no tie and no collar,” said Titus at last 
when Brick was fully dressed. 

“Here,” said Charlie, pulling off his, “don’t spare 
the finishing touches.” 

Titus was just fastening the red-silk tie when 
Dallas entered the room bearing aloft the long 
glass. 

“Set it down there,” said Titus, pointing to the 
wall. “Now, colored boy, look.” 

The transformed boy stepped up to the glass. 
He gave one glance, then he turned to the three 
boys behind him, who were also reflected in the 
mirror. 

“Where’s Brick, gen’l’men?” 

Titus shook his head solemnly. “Dead!” 

The colored boy looked again. “I see foah young 
sahs in dere, gen’l’men.” 

His face was irresistible, and the three boys burst 
out laughing. 

“That dead boy used to have cheeks like mud, 
gen’l’men,” Brick went on, in his funny, flat voice. 
“This boy have pale cheeks. He mos’ white.” 

“Brick,” said Titus, solemnly, “we’ve taken off 
ten layers of dirt.” 

“Young sah,” continued Brick, with dancing eye- 
balls, “the young cullid fellahs down at the hotel, 
they wears buttins.” 

His cunning glance searched Titus’s face. 

“Well, you shall have plenty of buttons to wear,” 
replied Titus, agreeably. “We’ll stud you with them 
till you don’t know which is button and which is 
boy.” 

Brick gave a shrill whistle and leaped in the air. 


Titus as a Philanthropist 217 

Then he began to dance — to dance with such glee 
and so much comicality that the three boys were 
presently exploding with laughter. 

“Come on ; this isn’t work,” exclaimed Titus, sud- 
denly. “I see Betty coming out with the first call 
to dinner. Let’s clear up this mess, ‘gen’l’men.’ 
Here, Brick, you help.” 

The colored boy took hold with a will, and soon 
the room was as tidy as when they had entered it. 

“Put some life into that dog,” commanded Titus, 
pointing to Bylow. 

Brick ran at him, caught him round the middle 
of his body, and danced round the room with him 
till he had no breath left. 

“Now cover him up with those blankets,” said 
Titus, “and come in and have some dinner.” 

“Me, sah,” exclaimed Brick; “me, sah?” 

“Yes, you — Charlie, will you stay?” 

“O, yes,” replied his friend, sarcastically, “I look 
so pretty.” 

“Get off with you, then,” said Titus, playfully 
giving him a push, “and come some other day. 
Much obliged for your help.” 

Charlie ran whistling out the back door of the 
stable, and Dallas, Titus, and Brick walked toward 
the house. 

“Mind you,” said Titus to Brick, “not one word 
to the girls or Mrs. Blodgett. Eat what is set before 
you and ask no questions.” 

Titus began to yawn and stutter when they got 
to the house. His excitement was over. 

“B-b-blodgieblossom,” he said, seeking her in the 
little sitting room off the storeroom, where she usu- 


218 


Princess Sukey 


ally sat to be within easy reach of the kitchen, ‘Tve 
got a new black pigeon — I want some dinner for 
it.” 

“All right, my boy,” said the woman, affection- 
ately, and she waddled out into the hall. 

“H-h-here it is,” said Titus, emphatically, and he 
laid his hand on Brick's shoulder. 

“Bless my heart, and soul, and body,” exclaimed 
Mrs. Blodgett, “if you aint the greatest lad! An- 
other colored boy, and the first one hardly gone out 
of the house.” 

“H-h-how would you have liked to keep that first 
one, Blodgieblossom ?” said Titus, mischievously. 

“I wouldn’t have given him houseroom,” she said, 
energetically, “the dirty creature ! Now this fellow 
looks clean,” and she bestowed a kindly glance on 
Brick. “I’ll have the girls lay him a little table in 
the wash room.” 

Brick was grinning, but not as alarmingly as be- 
fore. He was embarrassed now, and somewhat 
afraid of this fat woman. 

Ten minutes later he was an ecstatic colored boy. 
White girls were waiting on him, white girls were 
placing before him the most sumptuous dinner he 
ever ate, and he surreptitiously sneaked pieces off 
his plate and into his pockets for Bylow, the dog. 


CHAPTER XVIII 
Airy’s Second Call on the Judge 

Airy was arriving at ioo Grand Avenue, via the 
stable. 

Like a little dark shadow, she flitted up the drive- 
way to the open door of the harness room. Brick 
was there, seated on an overturned tub, polishing 
a silver-mounted bridle and whistling vigorously. 
Bylow lay at his feet, only lazily moving one ear in 
the direction of Airy. 

He knew who was coming. In fact, with his dog- 
gish sense of smell he knew before he saw her. 

“Good evening,” said Airy, suddenly. 

“Hello!” exclaimed Brick, starting to his feet. 
“Lord-a-massy, I thought it was a ghos’. How be 
you, Airy?” 

“Very well, thank you,” she said, mincing her 
words. 

“Set down,” said Brick, hospitably, pushing a 
stool toward her. 

“Thank you,” she said, leaning against the door- 
way, “I can’t set — I mean, sit down — with a stable 
boy. I’m a-goin’, a-going, I should say, to be a 
lady.” 

“Aint you give up that nonsense yet?” he said, 
agreeably, and dropping his bridle he got up and 
lounged toward her. 

“I never shall give it up,” she said, solemnly. 


220 


Princess Sukey 


“There always was somethin’ creepy about you, 
Airy,” said Brick, uneasily. “I say charms when 
I’m round wid you.” 

“What kind of charms ?” she asked, seriously. 

“O, ‘Debbil, debbil, nevvah die,’ an’ ‘The bogie’s 
got a lantern hangin’ out for me dis night.’ ” 

“Brick,” said the little girl, severely, “if you say 
charms you’ll never be a gentleman.” 

“Don’t want to be a gen’l’man,” he replied, 
stoutly. “Kin’ Providence had a little coffee in de 
wattah when he made dis chile. I’se a-goin’ to 
stay cullid.” 

“Well, I’m going to be a lady,” said the little 
girl, severely, “and Pm not going to waste time talk- 
ing to trash like you. I just promised mother to 
run and see how you be.” 

Brick grinned. He did not care for her thrusts. 
“Tell your mummy,” he said, “that I’m a-comin’ 
down to call. Kin you see my buttins? Do the 
light strike ’em dere?” and he moved anxiously 
nearer the hanging electric globe. 

“Yes,” said Airy, scornfully surveying the breast 
of his coat, which was one mass of brass buttons; 
“you look like the button drawer at Moses & 
Brown’s turned upside down.” 

“I sewed ’em on myself,” he went on, unheed- 
ingly. “Young Mass’ Tite he guv me de buttins. 
I guess they ben’t quite plumb, but I’ve got ’em.” 

“I guess you have to work here,” she remarked. 

Brick groaned. 

“You won’t like that,” she went on, scornfully. 

“Like it, honey — Brick hates it like pison — but, 
golly ! de grub — dat’s what keeps dis niggah heah.” 


Airy’s Second Call 221 

“You’ll get tired of it an’ run away,” she con- 
tinued. 

“Mebbe,” he said, with a yawn, “but look-y-there, 
missie,” and he drew a crackling greenback from his 
pocket and shook it in her face. “Mass’ Tite, he 
call dat earnest money. Chile alive, Brick had one 
pound chocolate drops yesterday, two pounds cara- 
mel creams to-day, an’ he’s a-goin’ to have a bag 
of jaw-breakers to-morrow, if he’s a spared nig. 
Ice cream we gets at table.” 

“Ketch me givin’ my servants ice cream when I 
have a house,” she said, disdainfully. 

“You’re goin’ to make a rattlin’ fine lady,” said 
Brick, with a comical glance. “Don’t you come fo’ 
me to work under yeh.” 

“I wouldn’t have you,” she said; then, catching 
sight of a new collar on Bylow, she asked, suddenly, 
“Who give him that?” 

“Mass’ Tite, missie. When he begged fo’ to keep 
me, Roblee, de ole man coachman, he was mad, an’ 
I guess de Jedge was half mad. But Mass’ Tite, 
he begged. ‘Well,’ says de Jedge, ‘de dog mus’ 
go.’ ‘Grandfathah,’ says Mass’ Tite, ‘I’m a-goin’ 
fo’ to make a gen’l’man of dat dere dog.’ Says de 
Jedge, ‘Ye can’t do it.’ Says Mass’ Tite, ‘Gimme 
a chance.’ So he go downtown, he buy dat fine 
plated collah, he talk to de dog, he brush him, he 
show him folks wid good does on; he says, ‘Don’ 
go fo’ to be no tramp dog no longer;’ an’, pon my 
honnah, dat dog, between de collah, an’ de talkin’, 
an’ de showin’, an’ de brushin’, and de good grub, 
an’ de warm room — why, he’s goin’ fo’ to be a 
ruspectable dog.” 


222 


Princess Sukey 


Airy said nothing, but she looked interested, and 
Brick went on with his vivacious play of hands, 
mouth, eyes, teeth, and tongue. 

“An 5 dat ole coachman, he’s a-comin’ roun’ to 
like him. Jes’ wait till I tells yeh. Befo’ he come, 
ole Roblee he miss his oats. Some one steal ’em. 
He don’t know how. Says he, ‘De oat bin aint 
nevvah open, only when I takes out oats fo’ de 
hosses an’ de cow, an’ when I leaves it fo’ de man 
who bring de oats to put ’em in. He’s as honest 
as I be. Yisterday, says he to Bylow, ‘Dog, look 
at dat oat bin. I’m a-goin’ to leave it open. Go 
in dat dark corner an’ watch. Ef you’s any good as 
watchdog you’ll ketch de thief.” 

Airy held out a finger to Bylow, who licked it 
slightly, and Brick continued: 

“I give Bylow a sign, an’ he went an’ lay down — 
didn’t run after me no moah. Late in de afternoon, 
when Roblee was a-drivin’ de Jedge, an’ I was in 
de house smellin’ roun’ to see if I could get some 
cookies what de girls was a-bakin’, I heard a hulla- 
baloo in de stable. I runned, an’ Bylow he was 
a-rippin’ at de pants of de good man what brung 
de oats.” 

“That man that brung them ?” replied Airy, in a 
puzzled voice. 

“Yes, missie, de good man knew when Roblee 
was away, he brung ’em an’ he took ’em. He roared 
an’ he prayed, but Bylow went on a-rippin’, an’ I 
led him in dis harness room an’ locked de door, an’ 
me an’ Bylow set outside, an’ when de Jedge come 
he interviewed the crimminel. Says he, ‘What you 
bin stealin’ my oats fo’?’ Says de man, T works 


Airy’s Second Call 


223 


hard an’ I’m only half paid, an’ I’ve got a sick chile 
at home a-dyin’ fer want of oranges an’ grapes, an’ 
I hevn’t got no money fo’ to buy ’em. Jedge, if 
you hev me ’rested, it’ll kill her.’ Says de Jedge, 
‘You ought to ’a’ thought of yer daughtah befoh. 
Come in de house wid me,’ an’ he took him in. 
In ten minutes I see de man a-comin’ out of de house 
wid a bag of some knubby things undah one arm — 
they mought ’a’ bin petetters, they mought ’a’ bin 
oranges — an’ undah de oddah he had one of Mis’ 
Blodgett’s lemon pies, ’cause I see de marangue 
from it stickin’ to de paper, an’ he had oddah gro- 
ceries, an’ he was cryin’, and he hadn’t no hand to 
get his hankersniff, so I followed on behin’ wid 
Bylow, an’ when we got out o’ sight of de house, 
an’ in sight of his cyart wid de waitin’ hoss, I says, 
‘Boss, shall I give yer a lend of my hankersniff?’ 
Says he, ‘Quit yer foolin’, ye sassy black imp,’ an’ 
he begun to gathah up his lines. Says he, ‘Ye’ve 
got a good place heah. I advise you to stick to it,’ 
an’ then he druv away, an’ I aint heard no talk of 
no policeman.” 

“Good-bye,” said Airy, abruptly, “I’m a-goin’ in 
to see the Jedge,” and she went slowly down the 
way she had come, and, going round to the front 
of the house, rang the bell. 

The Judge was expecting her this evening, and 
Jennie, having been warned, made no protest. 

Bethany had gone to bed. She remembered quite 
well the evening that Airy was to return, and she 
could hardly wait to finish her dinner before retir- 
ing to her room. The Judge smiled broadly at her 
haste. She did not like Airy. 


224 


Princess Sukey 


He put down his book when the young Tingsby 
girl entered the room, then he took off his glasses 
and surveyed her in silence. He was shocked by 
her appearance. She was always thin and delicate, 
but to-night there were dark rings under her eyes, 
and her manner was subdued and languid. How- 
ever, her indomitable spirit shone forth from her 
black eyes, and the Judge calmly returned her salu- 
tation, and asked her how she was getting on. 

“All right/’ she said, coolly, “but I’ve been study- 
in’ all night an’ all day.” 

“That is a foolish proceeding,” he remarked, 
warmly. 

“There’s such a heap to learn,” she said, wearily. 
“Seems as if I can’t ever ketch up to it.” 

“One thing at a time,” said the Judge. “You 
are young yet, and, I hope, have many years before 
you. But you must not sit up at night.” 

“Be I improved ?” she asked, unheedingly. 

“Yes,” he replied, promptly. “You have remem- 
bered your lesson. You came in quietly. Your 
voice is low, but you really look too ill to talk this 
evening. I will just tell you something I have been 
doing and then send you downstairs to have some- 
thing to eat and get one of the maids to go home 
with you. I don’t want you to come here any more 
in the evenings. Little girls should not be running 
the streets then. Come to see me in the afternoon, 
if you wish.” 

“Nothin’ would hurt me,” she said, peevishly. 

The Judge got up and went to the mantelpiece. 
“Can you read writing?” 

“Yes, sir, if it aint too scrawly.” 


Airy’s Second Call 


225 


“Well, here is a letter that I have written to your 
mother. I want you to read it, then to take it to 
her. Perhaps I would better read it to you,” and 
he sat down again. 

Airy languidly dropped her head against the 
cushions of her chair and listened to him attentively 
enough at first, then eagerly, and at last with a 
strained, frantic interest. 


CHAPTER XIX 

Dallas Takes a Hand at Management 

“Mrs. Tingsby, Dear Madam,” began the 
Judge, in his clear, rounded voice, “Some time ago 
I went to see a real estate agent in this city, and 
told him I wanted to invest a certain sum of money 
in house property. He has bought several houses 
for me ; among them is one cottage situated on the 
Cloverdale electric railway line. It is only four 
miles from the post office, so one can easily get into 
the city from it. The cottage has eight rooms; it 
is heated by a furnace, there are hot and cold-water 
pipes, and it has a small stable where a cow could 
be kept. The outlook is sunny, and the situation is 
not lonely, for there are other houses about sixty 
feet away. There is also a good school a quarter 
of a mile from the cottage. I have as yet no tenant 
for this cottage, and if you can pay the rent, which 
is one dollar a month, or twelve dollars a year, I 
think you should, in justice to your children, at once 
take possession of it. I must not forget to say that 
I greatly desire to say that whoever takes the cot- 
tage should consent to receive as a boarder an old 
servant of mine — a washerwoman. She is in poor 
health, and requires some waiting on. Her board, 
therefore, will be liberal. I am prepared to offer 


Dallas Takes a Hand 227 

you for her twelve dollars a week. Let me hear 
from you at your earliest convenience. 

“Yours very truly, 

“Titus Sancroft.” 

There was a dead silence after the Judge had 
finished reading the letter. He folded it, put it back 
in the envelope, then looked at Airy. 

Her eyes were fixed, and she was staring 
strangely at him. At last her jaws moved feebly. 
It seemed as if she were trying them to see if she 
could utter a sentence. 

“Be that true?” she gasped, in a hoarse voice. 

“Yes, child, quite true.” 

“Every word of it — house rent twelve dollars a 
year ?” 

“O, the pity of it,” and the Judge stifled a groan. 
At her age, to be so keenly, so terribly alive to the 
value of a dollar. 

“House rent, twelve dollars,” he said. 

“House rent, twelve dollars,” she repeated, me- 
chanically, “and boarder’s pay twelve dollars, too. 
Only one is by the year, and one by the week,” and 
opening her mouth she began to laugh in a shrill, 
mechanical voice. 

She started low, but she soon got high, and the 
Judge was beginning to stir uneasily in his chair, 
when, to his dismay, the laugh ended abruptly and 
a scream began. It was not an ordinary scream, it 
was an hysterical screech, and the alarmed man 
sprang from his seat. 

Airy had thrown herself back in her chair, her 
mouth was wide open, her eyes were staring and 


228 


Princess Sukey 


glassy. “O !" The man put his hands to his ears. 
It seemed to him that nothing in his life had ever 
struck such sudden dismay to his heart. He had 
seen women in hysterics, but this childish yelling 
was a thousand times worse. Where were the boys 
and the servants? He could not bear to touch the 
unfortunate young creature, and he turned help- 
lessly to the door. 

Titus and Dallas were rushing in from the room 
across the hall. When Titus saw Airy he fell back. 
He had something of his grandfather's repugnance 
to her. 

Dallas, however, was not dismayed. He took in 
the situation at a glance, and saying to Titus, “You 
had better shut the windows," he calmly took off 
his coat and threw it over Airy’s head. 

At the close of the day the big furnace in the 
basement was apt to make the house very warm, 
and windows were freely left open. Titus ran 
about this second floor, hastily closing them, while 
the servants came running to the study to see what 
was the matter. 

“Take her away," said the Judge, hastily; “let 
the women have her. I think she is half starved. 
Give her something to eat, and let her go home." 

Airy’s voice was muffled now, but it was still hold- 
ing forth, and in addition she had begun to kick. 

Dallas took up the lean little body in his strong 
young arms and bore it across the hall to the sitting 
room. 

“Come in here," he said to the wave of maids on 
the staircase, and followed by Mrs. Blodgett this 
wave overflowed into the sitting room. 


Dallas Takes a Hand 229 

“I excited her — I will stay here/’ said the Judge, 
with an approving gesture, and he backed into his 
study and closed the door. “Take good care of her,” 
he called once more, opening the door, “and send 
her home when she is better.” 

Titus returned into a corner of the sitting room, 
and Dallas became master of ceremonies. 

“Tve seen women like this in boarding houses,” 
he observed, reassuringly, to Titus. Then he said, 
“Some cold water, Jennie, to sprinkle on her face.” 

The water was dashed on her, her hands were 
rubbed, and presently the exhausted girl sat up and 
shut her mouth. 

“Will you be kind enough to have some hot soup, 
or something of the sort, prepared for her,” said 
Dallas to Mrs. Blodgett, “and make the maids go 
away. There are too many people in the room.” 

Mrs. Blodgett drove everybody out except Titus. 
However, he soon slipped away, and she and Dallas 
were alone with the little girl. 

They said nothing to her, and Airy, curled up on 
a sofa, panted and sobbed in a suppressed way, until 
Jennie appeared with the soup. 

Then she protested. “Take it away. I aint got 
no feelin’ for it.” 

“Drink it,” said Dallas, quietly, and he held the 
bowl to her lips. 

She had to take it, though in the effort a violent 
perspiration broke out all over her weak little body. 

Dallas made her drink every drop of it, then he 
sat quietly staring at her. Mrs. Blodgett took the 
bowl and waddled away, promising to return in a 
short time. 


Princess Sukey 


230 

Airy nervously plucked at the sofa cushions, until 
Dallas asked her a question. 

“Why did you shock the Judge by screaming in 
that way?” 

“ 'Cause he’s such a wonder,” she said, weakly, 
“he’s such an understandin’ merracle of a man.” 

“What has he done?” 

“He’s give us a farm — a greenery place outside 
the city.” 

“O!” said Dallas, quietly, “a place for your 
mother to take the children?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“What did you come here to-night for?” asked 
the boy. 

“I come for to take a lesson in bein’ a lady.” 

“Does the Judge teach you?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Dallas pondered a few minutes, then he said, half 
to himself, “I wonder if he enjoys it.” 

“No,” he don’t,” said Airy, frankly. “He don’t, but 
what kin I do. I’ve got to learn how to be a lady.” 

“I’ll speak to the Judge,” said Dallas, calmly. “I 
think I could give you lessons. It’s a shame to 
bother a man of his age. 

Airy’s eyes sparkled faintly. This polite boy 
could teach her as well as the Judge could. How- 
ever, she felt too exhausted to discuss the matter, 
and sat quietly on the sofa. 

“I’ll come to you,” said Dallas; “you’re not 
strong enough to come here.” 

“I likes it,” she said, faintly; “I likes this house.” 

“Well, perhaps when you are stronger,” he said, 
decidedly. “Just now, you look as if you ought not 


Dallas Takes a Hand 231 

to leave your own rooftree. I’ll come and teach 
you several days a week after school is over. I 
suppose you’ll be moving soon, if the Judge has 
given you a house?” 

“You bet we will,” she said, faintly. 

“And now,” he went on, “I am going to have a 
carriage sent for, and one of the maids will go 
home with you.” 

“I’m not worth it,” said Airy, but she was de- 
lighted, he could tell by her wan smile. 

Ten minutes later Dallas stood at the front door 
watching the disappearing lights of the cab that 
bore the poor child away. 

Then he went upstairs to the Judge’s study. 

“Sir,” he said, “if you will allow me, I should 
like to help that little girl get an education.” 

His patron looked at him benevolently. “But 
you have not the time, Dallas.” 

“Yes, sir, I could teach her any day after school.” 

The Judge reflected a few minutes. Perhaps it 
would be better for the little girl to have a younger 
instructor. Then it would be a chance for self- 
sacrifice on the part of Dallas. 

“You sympathize with her aspirations?” he said, 
inquiringly. 

“I’ve been there, sir,” replied Dallas, warmly. 
“I have been poor and despised, and I have longed 
to get an education.” 

“Very well, I make my charge over to you. If 
you get tired, hand her back to me.” 

“I won’t get tired,” said the boy, firmly. 

“She wants nourishing food,” said the Judge, 
“more than anything else. I shall give orders to 


232 Princess Sukey 

have something sent to her every day from our 
table.” 

Dallas said good-night to him and went away, 
and the Judge thoughtfully picked up his book. 

“I wonder what he will make of her — poor little 
soul, she looks as if she were going to die.” 

Until he went to bed Airy was in his thoughts. 
Poor little ailing creature, he hoped that she would 
gain strength. It was sad to have so much ambi- 
tion bound up in such a fragile body. He was glad 
that he had done something to enable her mother to 
move away from narrow, dirty River Street. 

During the night he dreamed of the Tingsbys, and 
when he awoke in the morning they were still before 
him. Therefore, when he went out into the hall 
and looked out the window, as he usually did before 
he went down to breakfast, he was hardly surprised 
to see the whole Tingsby family, except Airy, seated 
on the long flight of steps leading up to his front 
door. He stared at them, then he went slowly 
downstairs. 

Higby was sitting on one of the hall chairs. He 
got up when he saw his employer, and slightly back- 
ing, as he always did when speaking to the Judge, 
said, “Th-th-there’s a whole f-f-family campin' out 
on the s-s-steps, sir. They wouldn’t c-c-come in.” 

The Judge patiently put on a hat and opened the 
door. 

“ ’Tention,” he heard in Mrs. Tingsby’s voice as 
he stepped out. 

“Good-morning,” he said, politely. 

She went on, without apparently noticing him: 
“Up, little Tingsbys!” 


Dallas Takes a Hand 


233 


“Seems to be a kind of drill, ” murmured the 
Judge to himself. “Well, if it pleases them and 
doesn’t last too long I won’t complain. I wonder 
how many of my neighbors are up ?” and he calmly 
scanned the windows of the house next door. 

Two maids were behind the curtains. The Tings- 
bys evidently amused them. 

Mrs. Tingsby had been holding the baby in her 
arms when the Judge arrived. Now he stood on 
his own young feet, and with admirable intelligence 
was taking his part in the maneuvers. 

“Hands out, Tingsbys!” said the little woman. 

Every Tingsby child stretched out its arms — 
Dobbie, Gibb, Goldie, Rodd, and Annie. 

“Mitts off!” commanded the mother. 

Every child bared his or her hands. 

Mrs. Tingsby turned to the Judge. “See them 
finger nails, sir. Every one of ’em to be worked 
off for you.” 

The Judge shivered slightly. 

“In case you needs it,” she continued, with em- 
phasis. “Now, children, your catechism. Ques- 
tion one : Who came down like a sheep to the fold 
and swooped little Bethany away to a lovely home ?” 

Five young voices gave an answer to the chilly 
morning wind sweeping by, “The Jedge.” 

“Who’s been a good shepherd to Sister Airy?” 

Again the shrill voices answered, “The Jedge!” 

“Who’s guv, or almost guv, us a lovely green 
house out in the country, which our eyes have all 
seen this blessed momin’ — guv to the Tingsbys?” 

“The Jedge!” shouted the children, excitedly. 

“An’ now who’s goin’ to love the Jedge, an’ work 


Princess Sukey 


234 

for the Jedge, an’ praise the Jedge, an' copy the 
Jedge?” 

“We be!” they yelled, excitedly. 

“I am quite satisfied with this exhibition of grati- 
tude,” said the Judge, trying to speak very dis- 
tinctly, “quite satisfied.” 

Mrs. Tingsby beamed on him. “Sir, your hum- 
ble servant. If ever I hears anyone say a word agin 
you I’ll tear out his hair, an’ scratch out his eyes, 
an’ — ” 

The Judge waved his hand at her. There was no 
use in speaking, for she did not understand a word 
he said. However, she would know what that pro- 
hibitory gesture meant. Ordinarily, she was a sensi- 
ble woman. Just now she seemed to be in a strange 
state of exaltation, brought on, no doubt, by the 
prospect of being able to take her progeny to the 
country. In short, she was getting silly, and would 
better go home. 

“Will you come in and have some breakfast?” 
asked the Judge, motioning hospitably toward the 
open door. 

“Sir,” she said, grandly, “I knows my duty. 
Never a Tingsby but Airy’ 11 enter your front door, 
nor back door, nuther. But we’ll process up an’ 
have a look at the stable an’ Brick, bein’ as we’re all 
together,” and with a solemn curtesy of farewell 
she swept her brood off the front steps and round 
the corner of the house toward the stable. 

“Higby,” said the Judge, entering the hall, “go 
quickly to the stable with a basket of doughnuts 
and the supply of coffee for breakfast. Tell cook to 
make fresh for me.” 


CHAPTER XX 

The Cat Man and the Judge’s Family 

Late one afternoon Barry Mafferty, the cat man, 
left the island out in the river where he kept his 
handsome cats for sale, and quickly rowed himself 
toward the city. 

The winter was passing away, the spring was 
coming. There was a feeling in the air. Barry 
could not describe it, as fluent as he was in the use 
of words. 

The feeling was not a warm feeling, for the air 
was still chilly. Perhaps it was not a feeling, but 
a look — a look as of a departing, reluctant season. 
Barry did not know. 

“Anyhow,” he murmured to himself, “the cold 
days are going, the warm ones are coming. Some- 
thing tells me, something turns my thoughts to 
green grass and running water, to gardens and 
flowers — it is faith.” 

He looked over his shoulder toward the city. 
“Just a good size,” he murmured, “not small enough 
to be stupid, and not large enough to be oppressive. 
Looks well this evening, too — enveloped in that red, 
smoky haze.” 

In a short time he was abreast of the fish market. 
The old caretaker there always took charge of his 
boat when he came to the city. 

Barry sprang on the slimy stone steps leading up 
to the wharf, tied his boat up, looked irritably over 


Princess Sukey 


236 

his shoulder at the deaf old caretaker, who was 
shouting his name and a greeting to him, then went 
quickly up to the little cabin near the big fish market. 

It was not quite dark yet; he would not go up 
to the city until it was. 

The present caretaker and ex-fisherman followed 
him into the cabin. 

“What’s your hurry? You spun by me like a 
flying fish.” 

“I want to sit down ; I’m tired,” said Barry, fling- 
ing his cap on the table. 

“Did ye row standin’ ?” roared the old man. 

“No, I didn’t,” observed Barry, mildly. 

“What’s the news on the island ?” inquired the old 
fisherman, sitting down before his guest. 

“What kind of news would I be likely to have but 
cat news?” inquired Barry, sarcastically. 

“Well, give us your cat news. I see the Mayor’s 
steam launch goin’ out to yer island yesterday. Was 
he wantin’ cats fer his lady?” 

“Yes, he did buy one,” said Mafferty. 

“Hey?” 

“He bought one — or, rather, he sent his man for 
one — a white Angora with blue eyes.” 

“An’ how much would ye get fer such a beast?” 

“Twenty dollars.” 

“Twenty dollars!” echoed the caretaker, in dis- 
gust, “an’ I drowns ’em by the bagful.” 

“You don’t drown Angoras.” 

“Who said I did? I drowns common cats, gray 
cats, tabby cats, yellow cats, an’ all kinds of cats.” 

“How much do you get for it?” 

“Ten cents apiece.” 


The Cat Man 


237 


“Do you drown them here ?” asked Barry. 

“Yes; do you s’pose I’d navigate ’em out to the 
Atlantic ?” 

“And the lobster pens are close by,” observed 
Barry; “disgusting!” 

The old man shrugged his shoulders. 

“You’ll soon have that source of income cut off,” 
continued Barry. 

“What’ll be cut off?” 

“Your cat money. Law ! how deaf the old crea- 
ture is ! The city is goin to have a gas box.” 

“An’ what kind of a union is there between the 
city, an’ gas, an’ cats?” inquired the old man, in 
quiet exasperation. 

“Union and disunion. In future anyone having a 
cat to destroy can take it to the City Hall. They’ve 
given a big room to the S. P. C. You deliver your 
sick cat, or your old cat, or your superfluous cat, 
and a man puts her in a big box with a juicy piece 
of meat. The gas is turned on, pussy eats her meat, 
gets sleepy, lies down, and dies.” 

The old fisherman pounded the table with his fist. 
“An’ who’s at the bottom of that hugger-mugger 
business ?” 

“Mrs. Tom Everest.” 

“I might ’a’ known it — I might ’a’ guessed. Tak- 
in’ the bread out of the mouth of an honest man.” 

“How about the demoralizing effect on children, 
of screaming cats dragged through the city in 
bags ?” 

“Screaming fish tails ! It don’t hurt ’em.” 

“How would you like to be the cat ?” asked Barry, 
slyly. 


Princess Sukey 


238 

“She’s always interferin’,” said the old man, pas- 
sionately; “she’s always stickin’ her little nose into 
every man’s business.” 

“Who runs to help me when I’m ill?” inquired 
Barry, mischievously. 

The old man showed his teeth at him. 

“Who always pays my doctor’s bill?” pursued 
Barry, in his clear voice. 

“I’ve jined a benevolent society,” shouted the 
old man ; “she aint a-goin’ to coddle me any more.” 

“What about your grandchild?” said Barry. 
“What about that imp Cracker that no one else can 
manage ?” 

The old man’s head sank, and he looked thought- 
ful. 

“How many times has she saved him from the 
police court? Old Cracker, you are an ungrateful 
wretch. Come now, aint you?” 

The poor old fellow’s head sank lower. His young 
grandchild was all he had in the world. “I believe 
I be,” he said, slowly. “I believe I be.” 

Barry looked out the window. “ ’Most dark ; I 
can be going. Seen any strangers about, Cracker, 
senior?” he asked, as he turned his coat collar well 
up about his ears and pulled his cap down over his 
eyes. 

“No, no — no strangers, only fish,” replied the 
caretaker; only fish, fish, fish,” and Barry left him 
mumbling to himself. 

With a quick, alert step the dark-featured, mid- 
dle-aged man left River Street, went up one of the 
slightly ascending side streets that led to Broadway, 
quickly crossed the brilliantly lighted and crowded 


The Cat Man 


239 

thoroughfare, and struck into a succession of quiet 
streets that finally led him to Grand Avenue. 

Little by little the appearance of the houses had 
improved, until here on Grand Avenue he found 
himself among mansions. 

Arrived near Judge Sancroft’s house, he walked 
more slowly, then suddenly he turned, and retracing 
his steps walked up the driveway leading to the 
stable. 

His keen eyes scrutinized every window of the 
house. Here and there one was open. “They all 
like fresh air,” he murmured. Under one open win- 
dow he paused. He could hear the sound of voices. 
Dallas was speaking — Dallas the clever English boy 
that the Judge had adopted — and he was scolding 
Bethany, dear little Bethany. 

Barry’s face softened. He was very much at- 
tached to that child. Ever since he had known her 
she had been sweet and gentle with him — first at 
Mrs. Tingsby’s, and now when he occasionally saw 
her with the Judge. Dear little Bethany — the only 
little girl he knew in Riverport that he cared much 
about, except poor Airy, and his face softened still 
further. What was Dallas worrying her about? 

They seemed to be standing by one of the open 
parlor windows. “Bethany,” Dallas was saying, 
severely, “I have brought you in here to scold you. 
I think you are a selfish little girl.” 

“I don’t feel selfish,” remarked Bethany, whim- 
peringly. 

“Well, you act so. I consider you the most selfish 
person in this household. Everyone in the family 
has got into the way of pleasing you from morning 


240 


Princess Sukey 


till night, and it is having a bad effect on you. I 
consider that you treated Airy very shabbily this 
afternoon. ,, 

“I didn’t do anything,” said Bethany, resentfully. 

“That is just it — you didn’t do anything. Now, 
you know as well as I do that for weeks I have been 
teaching Airy, and that she has improved immensely 
— just immensely. She called this afternoon, and 
naturally I was anxious to show her off to the 
Judge. I took pains to have her meet you when you 
came from school, and what did you do?” 

“You didn’t tell me what to do?” said Bethany, 
irritably. 

“Didn’t tell you? Of course not. I hoped that 
your own kind heart would tell you. You saw that 
Airy was dying to play with you. Why didn’t you 
invite her to stay ?” 

Bethany burst out with an intense remark, “I 
don’t like Airy.” 

“Neither do I, but is that an excuse? Suppose I 
stopped teaching her because I did not like her?” 

“I’m going to tell Daddy Grandpa how you are 
scolding me,” remarked Bethany, plaintively. 

“I am delighted to hear it. His calm, judicial 
mind will decide between us. I just wanted him to 
know, but I wouldn’t go to him, because I hate to 
carry tales. And now you may go, Miss Selfish- 
ness. My interview with you is over.” 

Barry, under the window, laughed to himself, 
then listened as he heard the Judge’s kind voice: 
“Children, what are you sparring about here in this 
lonely room ?” 

“O, Daddy Grandpa,” exclaimed Bethany — and 


The Cat Man 


241 


Barry could imagine her running to throw herself 
into the arms of her adopted grandfather, “am I a 
selfish creature?” 

The Judge’s clear tones floated out the window, 
“Certainly — we all are.” 

“But Dallas says I am just un — un — it begins 
with 'un’ and ends with 'able/ ” 

“So we all are,” said the Judge; “so we all are.” 

“But he says I’ve been very hateful to Airy, Dad- 
dy Grandpa.” 

“So have we all been,” said the Judge, cheerily, 
“so have we all been. She is longing to come here. 
She meets me in the street, and she throws out hints. 
Dallas, invite your pupil to visit us any hour of any 
day, or to any meal. She does you credit.” 

Barry could hear the boy’s deeply gratified 
“Thank you, sir,” then the voices were hushed for 
him, for the Judge said, “Please close that window, 
my boy. Bethany’s frock is thin.” 

With a smile Barry went on his way to the stable. 
The lights were out here, everything was quiet, but 
he saw a glimmer from Brick’s room. 

“Hello!” he called, and he threw a handful of 
gravel against the window. “Brick, ahoy!” 

Brick ran up the blind, opened the window, and 
thrust out a cautious head. 

“Dat you, Mistah Mafferty?” 

“Yes, Brick; come down and let me in.” 

The colored boy ran nimbly down the stairs, 
pressed a button, and lighting up the lower part of 
the stable ushered his friend in. 

“Come up to your room,” said Barry, command- 
ingly, and he strode ahead of the lad. Brick, grin- 


242 Princess Sukey 

ning from ear to ear at the honor conferred upon 
him — for this was the second time that Barry had 
visited him within a week — followed close at his 
heels. 

When they got into his snug little bedroom Barry 
sat down and looked about him. Brick was in the 
act of changing his clothes. 

“What are you dressing up for, this time of 
night?” inquired Barry, suspiciously. “You ought 
to be going to bed.” 

“I aint dressin’ up; I’se dressing down,” giggled 
Brick. “I’se goin’ fo’ a walk, mistah, an' I didn’ 
want fo’ to soil my buttins,” and he glanced lov- 
ingly at the bespangled garment of the bed. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Down to River Street. I’se pinin’ to see my ole 
friens. Me an’ Bylow’s not been down fo’ about 
a thousan’ meal times,” and he gave a push with 
his foot toward the plump sleeping dog. 

“He don’t want to go,” observed Barry, dryly. 

“I guess you’re right, mistah. I guess Bylow be 
jus’ as much glorified to stay to hum, but, bless you, 
Brick don’ care,” and he thrust his arms into a 
shabby coat that he took from a hook on the wall. 

“How many coats have you without buttons?” 
asked Barry, curiously. 

“Dere’s dis fellow,” said Brick, laying his hand 
on his chest, “an’ dat fellow,” and he brought one 
from the closet, “an’ de odder fellow,” and he 
pointed to one that Bylow lay on. 

“Let’s see them all lying on the bed together,” 
said Barry, in an infantile way. 

Brick laughed in silly glee. It was delightful to 


The Cat Man 


243 

see this fine gentleman — for such the cat man was to 
him — taking such an interest in his wardrobe. He 
stripped off the coat he had on, brought another 
from the closet, pulled the one out from under the 
protesting Bylow, and laid them on the bed. 

“And how many coats have you with, buttons?” 
asked Barry. 

“Only two, mistah; de fust best an’ de second 
best.” 

Barry calmly rolled the three buttonless coats to- 
gether and put them under his arm. 

“Were you going to River Street to see anyone 
in particular?” 

“No, mistah — jes’ thought I’d sauntah roun’. 
Mebbe call on Mis’ Tingsby; but, law me, dis nig- 
gah furgits. She aint dah. She’s moved to de lubley 
green country.” 

“Brick,” said Barry, seriously, “you are happy 
here?” 

Brick made a face. 

“O, excuse me,” continued Barry, “I forgot. Of 
course you are not happy. You long for the old free 
life — for dirt and rags, and an empty stomach, for 
kicks instead of thanks.” 

Brick hung his head. He had sense enough to 
know when he was being laughed at. 

“Sure enough, mistah,” he said, “de meals dey 
didn’t come reglah in dose days. Dey played 
chase.” 

“And the dirty, low people. How you must have 
enjoyed living with them. And the tramp, your 
master — what a sweet creature !” 

“He used to wallop Brick awful,” and the boy 


244 


Princess Sukey 


ruefully rubbed his shoulder. ‘Tse glad I runned 
away from him.” 

“Now, look here, Brick,” said Barry, roughly, 
“I think you are a fool. You’ve got a snug berth 
here. Just as sure as you go monkeying round 
River Street you’ll lose it. What did I tell you two 
days ago?” 

“You tole me to stay in de house at night and let 
de dog loose in de yahd, and not to take up wid 
strangers.” 

“And you’re doing all that, aren’t you?” said 
Barry, sarcastically. 

Brick stared earnestly at him for a few seconds, 
then he said, “Mistah, dere aint one thing Brick cries 
fo’, but one.” 

“And what is that, you goose ?” 

“He can’t do what he likes,” said the boy, seri- 
ously. “Now, Brick, he always likes his own way. 
An’ his own way aint Roblee way, nor Jedge way, 
nor Mastah Titus way, nor Mistah Mafferty way.” 

“You idiot! Who does get his own way in the 
world?” 

“De tramp,” said Brick, solemnly, “he do.” 

“Does he?” said Barry, “does he? Who is the 
tramp always afraid of?” 

“He aint afraid of no one but hissef.” 

“He is. Think now. Search that crack-brained 
memory of yours.” 

“Do you mean the p’lice ?” asked Brick, and from 
his slightly open mouth Barry caught a gleam of 
pink gums and white ivory. 

“Of course I do. He’s mortally afraid of 
him.” 


The Cat Man 


2 45 


“Dat's true, dat's true,” and Brick burst into a 
guffaw of laughter. “De p’liceman comes, de tramp 
runs, if he aint squared him, an’ it takes lots of cash 
to square de whole p’lice of dis here country.” 

“Don't you leave this place,” said Barry, warn- 
ingly. 

“Mistah,” said the boy, and his grin vanished, 
“dere's two Bricks. One Brick he say, ‘Boy, don' 
you get out o' smell o' dose fleshpots in de Jedge’s 
kitchen.' De odder Brick he say, ‘Run, boy, run — 
dere’s fun in de city — run, boy, run.' ” 

“It’s the button boy that says stay, isn't it?” in- 
quired Barry, with a glance at Brick’s official 
garments on the bed. 

“Yes, sah; dose buttons is anchors. Brick can’t 
run wid dem. Dey is ruspectability.” 

“Then you’ll have to stay,” said Barry, getting 
up and moving toward the door, “for I'm going to 
carry off your plain clothes.” 

Brick followed him anxiously. “Mistah, you don' 
lay out fo' to take away po' Brick's wardrobe ?” 

“Yes, I do lay out for to do that very thing, and 
if you say a word to anyone about it I'll give you 
such a walloping that you won’t be able to stand 
up for a week.” 

“An' Brick can't go anywhere widout dem but- 
tins,” said the boy, sadly looking at his glistening 
coat on the bed. “Ef he 'pears in River Street dey’ll 
say, ‘Heah comes de Jedge's boy.' ” 

“If you appear in River Street in that coat,” said 
Barry, firmly, “I'll tell you what will happen. I'm 
going to see Git McGlory to-night. You know 
Git?” 


Princess Sukey 


246 

“Know his fisties,” said Brick, meekly. “De’re 
like little potato barrels.” 

“Well, Pm going to tell Git that I’m interested in 
a certain colored boy called Brick that he knows 
well. Fm going to say, ‘Git, if you see that boy on 
River Street just you shake your fists at him, and 
send him home. He’s got a good home, and I don’t 
mean he shall leave it.’ ” 

Brick shuddered. “Mistah, aint I evah goin’ to 
git my does back?” 

“Yes, if you behave yourself; but mind, I’m 
watching you. If you cut one button off your 
coats, or if you go in one place where you’d be 
ashamed to have the Judge see you, I’ll be on your 
track. Mind that now,” and with a determined 
shake of his head he opened the door to go 
out. 

“By the way,” he said, sticking his head inside 
the room again, “have you seen anything more of 
that stranger who came here the other evening 
inquiring for the Brown’s coachman?” 

“No,” said the boy, seriously, “I aint.” 

“Would you know him if you saw him in broad 
daylight?” 

“No, sah.” 

“Well, don’t you have anything to do with him,” 
said Barry, somewhat unreasonably, and he went 
away. 

Left alone, Brick stood quietly in the middle of 
the floor for a few minutes. Then he began to 
shudder, at first in pretense, then in reality. Then 
he said a number of charms. Not all the church- 
going and Sunday school teaching that he had had 


The Cat Man 247 

could shake his faith in them. Finally he jumped 
into bed with all his clothes on, and repeating 1 , 
“ Snake hiss, and toad turn, water bless me ere I 
burn! ,, he called Bylow the dog to lie closer under 
the bed, then drawing the blanket over his head 
shiveringly tried to go to sleep. 


CHAPTER XXI 
Mafferty Unfolds a Plot 

Mrs. Tom Everest was putting her baby to bed. 
Surely there never was such a provoking baby. He 
laughed, and played, and gurgled in his throat, he 
caught her hands in his own, he tried to bite his 
toes, he lapped at a little black bag she wore on her 
belt; in short, he was so naughty that at last she 
said seriously, “Baby, if you don’t lie down mother 
will slap your hannies.” 

At this he shouted with laughter. He clapped his 
offending hands, he made a wild dash at her with 
his mouth, then suddenly there was silence. He 
was dead tired ; all day he had been just as bad as 
he could be. He was braving the old Sleep Man, 
and now, in the twinkling of an eye, he had suc- 
cumbed. One tired yawn, one last exquisite baby 
look of perfect trust in the young mother bending 
over him, and Tom junior was off for Sleepy Town. 

Mrs. Tom laid the downy head on the pillow, she 
drew the coverlet over the pink limbs, she dropped 
a kiss, light as thistle down, on the moist cheek. 
How could she leave him, her one baby, her treas- 
ure, and she was fussing over him in the unique way 
that mothers have when there was a knock at the 
door. 

“What is it, Daisy?” she whispered, turning her 
head. 


Mafferty Unfolds a Plot 249 

“Mr. Mafferty, ma’am,” said the little maid ; “in 
the parlor. Wants to see you special.’’ 

“Tell him I will come at once,” and only waiting 
to adjust a screen about baby’s tiny bed, young Mrs, 
Everest tripped downstairs. 

“How do you do, Barry?” she said, extending a 
hand with a frank girlish smile, as she entered the 
large, comfortable, but plainly furnished room. 

“Good evening,” he replied, gravely. 

“You have something on your mind, Barry,” she 
said, shrewdly. “Come, now, out with it to your 
mother confessor.” 

He gave her a glance that partook largely of the 
nature of adoration. 

“Seems like the other day,” he said, dreamily, 
“that I was sauntering into this town a lazy, good- 
for-nothing, despised tramp.” 

Mrs. Everest smiled. “I have almost forgotten 
that brown-faced man out by the iron works.” 

“I’ll never forget how you looked that day,” he 
said, earnestly, “such a clean, sweet slip of a girl.” 

“Four years ago, Barry,” she said, shaking her 
head; “four years ago.” 

“And I had the impudence to ask you for money,” 
he went on, “and worse, to threaten you, and you 
forgave me, and brought me in to town and gave me 
shelter and food. May the Lord bless you for it !” 

“I have my reward now,” she said, quietly. “You 
don’t know what a pleasure it is to me to see you 
living happily out on the island with your wife. She 
is a good woman, Barry.” 

“Too good for me,” he said, bitterly, “for I give 
her lots of trouble yet.” 


250 


Princess Sukey 


“But, Barry, you are doing better.” 

“I never was a criminal,” he said, seriously. 
“Heaven forgive me for saying it, but I believe that 
the real, genuine criminal rarely reforms. I was 
and am a drunkard. It seems as if I can’t get rid 
of the thirst.” 

“Pray to God, Barry, and work hard yourself.” 

“O, it’s all very well for you,” he said, with an 
impatient shake of his head. “You have a fresh 
heart and soul. Mine are old, and dull, and hard. 
Intellectually I see things as clearly as ever, but 
when it comes to feeling — ” 

“Barry,” she interrupted, gently, “you are too 
hard on yourself.” 

He clenched one hand and brought it down softly 
on the other. Mrs. Everest, keep the children inno- 
cent and tender. That’s my thought about them. 
Now I’ve come to speak to you to-night about what 
I fear is a plot against a little child. There’s no 
one near to hear us, is there?” and he looked fear- 
fully over his shoulder. 

“No one, Barry. You may speak freely.” 

He threw himself back in his chair with a sigh 
of relief. “I’ve been under tension for the last two 
days. Queer, isn’t it, what different kinds of people 
there are in the world. Seems as if the Lord makes 
some of us better than others. Now you live here in 
this vile street like a lily growing out of mud. You 
know the mud is here, but it doesn’t contaminate 
you.” 

“Some one says that familiarity with vice is not 
necessarily pollution,” murmured Mrs. Everest, 
gently. “The lily regrets her environment, but her 


Mafferty Unfolds a Plot 251 

roots running out and fresh soil introduced may 
purify the mud.” 

“The street is better than it used to be, fifty per 
cent,” he said, “but I must get on with my story. 
I hate to speak to you of the underworld, but it 
exists. Even the children know it. Some persons 
are bad and make their living off others. Now, as 
I said before, I never was a criminal. In fact, I 
was too low down for one, for I didn’t want to 
work. But traveling about the country I used to 
hear about famous sharpers. I was as dust under 
their feet, but when I would get into a tramp’s 
refuge of any kind I used to hear them talking of 
this one and that who had distinguished himself in 
the world of crime — you are listening, are you?” 
and he peered forward to look at Mrs. Everest’s 
face. 

“Yes, Barry, listening and interested, but the 
light from that hall gas is not enough. I will light 
the lamp on this table,” and she took off its glass 
shade. 

“Once, in Boston,” continued Barry, when she 
sat down again opposite him, “I had one of the 
best-known all-round criminals in the country 
pointed out to me. They said he could do any- 
thing, and he was only a young fellow. I saw him 
again later in the year in a small New Hampshire 
town. He was running away from justice, and the 
chase was getting hot. I recognized him, accosted 
him, and helped him. He laid over a few days in a 
shanty in the woods I was occupying, and proud 
enough I was of the honor, though at the same time, 
low-down tramp as I was, I had a kind of contempt 


252 


Princess Sukey 


for him. But it was an honor to boast of having 
been the host of Jim Smalley.” 

“Poor Barry!” murmured Mrs. Everest, sympa- 
thetically. 

“Now from that day till two days ago I have never 
set eyes on him,” pursued Barry. “But Pve seen 
him on Grand Avenue. You know I took a liking 
to Judge Sancroft, and when I come to the city my 
feet always carry me up to take a turn round his 
house. Well, the other day I was getting near. I 
was plodding along by Saint Mark’s Church, when 
suddenly I saw a man in front of me sauntering 
along, smoking a cigarette.” 

“Surely it wasn’t Smalley?” said Mrs. Everest, 
excitedly. 

“Wait a bit,” replied Barry, with a gratified smile 
to think that he had aroused her interest. “I was 
gazing at him as one will gaze at a fellow stroller, 
when he quietly turned his head in the direction of 
the Judge’s house. I felt something cold come over 
me. It was Smalley.” 

“Just imagine!” exclaimed his companion. 

“Mrs. Everest,” he said, earnestly, “I can’t tell 
you how frightened I was and how glad. I felt as 
if a snake had uprisen in my path, and I was glad 
that I felt it was a snake. ‘Brace up, Barry,’ I said 
to myself, ‘you’re getting good. Once upon a time 
a meeting with the redoubtable Smalley would have 
afforded you amusement. Now your one thought is 
to get away from him.’ ” 

“Good Barry!” said Mrs. Everest, approvingly. 

“My dear young lady,” continued Barry, “have 
you ever heard that a caged bird will dash itself 


Mafferty Unfolds a Plot 253 

against the bars of its prison when it sees an hered- 
itary enemy of its kind flying overhead ?” 

“No,” she replied, curiously; “why does it do it?” 

“Instinct, intuition. Now, I believe — indeed, 
criminologists tell us — that an innocent child or a 
good man or woman will often feel a strange, invol- 
untary dislike for an evil person, even when there is 
no proof of evil apparent. Now, Smalley is rather 
an artless-looking young man. He has not a vicious 
face, and nothing that has happened for a long time 
pleased me as much as my shrinking from him.” 

Mrs. Everest smiled sympathetically, and as a 
sudden thought occurred to him he went on : “When 
I spoke of the intuitive dislike of the innocent for 
the guilty, just now, I was not thinking of myself, 
but of you, or Bethany, for example. Alas! I am 
only half reformed.” 

“But you are sufficiently reformed to hate Smal- 
ley and his evil ways.” 

“That I am,” he said, earnestly. “I hope that he 
will be brought to confusion.” 

“And repentance.” 

“From my heart — if it is possible; but I fear, 
I fear!” and he shook his head sadly. 

“I suppose your first thought was to run away 
from him.” 

“It was, but my second was to discover if he had 
any object in being in that neighborhood. He had 
— I knew my man well. He gave careless glances 
at the houses of the Judge’s neighbors. His look 
at one hundred and ten was long, shrewd, and cal- 
culating. There’s mischief afoot,’ I said to my- 
self; T wonder what it is.’ I didn’t want him to see 


2 54 


Princess Sukey 


me, and yet if he had heard me coming I didn’t want 
to stop. It was a raw, east-windy day, and as good 
luck would have it I had on the fur-lined coat the 
Judge sent me and the fur cap I found in the pocket 
of it. I put up a hand, turned up my collar, pulled 
down my cap, then I walked straight on. I thought 
of stopping and taking a memorandum book out of 
my pocket as if to consult it, but I didn’t. It might 
have attracted Smalley’s attention — they say he has 
an extra sense. Well, he walked on in front of me, 
but I saw him give another look at the Judge’s 
house. Some people don’t see anything in a look. 
Smalley’s spoke volumes to me. He had some par- 
ticular reason for singling out number one hundred 
and ten. Then, to confirm my suspicion, he gave 
a sidelong glance up the driveway to the stable. He 
was dying to go up there, but he didn’t like to.” 

“How little he thought you were watching him !” 

“Yes, he hadn’t a suspicion of me. I had to pass 
him, he was going so slowly. I felt him look me 
all over.” 

“And did he recognize you?” she inquired, breath- 
lessly. 

“Not a bit of it. My flesh stopped crawling. I 
was a relieved man. You see, my appearance was 
so different from that of the dirty tramp he had 
met, and then he would never expect to find me 
wearing good clothes and walking on a swell ave- 
nue, and finally he would never expect to meet me 
at all — would never think of me.” 

“But, Barry,” said Mrs. Everest, wonderingly, 
“suppose he had recognized you. What harm could 
he do?” 


Mafferty Unfolds a Plot 


255 


“No harm, but he could make it mighty uncom- 
fortable for me. If he had found out I was trying to 
reform a word from him would have sent every 
New England tramp this way to quarter themselves 
on me, and if I refused to harbor them to make up 
ugly stories about me. Lies are the breath of life 
to trampdom.” 

“Well, what happened? This is very interest- 
ing !” she exclaimed, with her eyes shining. “Please 
hurry on, Barry.” 

“My ! but you have a good heart,” the man said, 
admiringly. “I am old enough to be your father, 
but I always feel as if you were my mother.” 

“Go on, go on,” she reiterated, in girlish impa- 
tience; “don’t stop to analyze your feelings. You 
can do that some other time. What else did Smalley 
do ?” 

“He didn’t do anything more just then, and you 
will think that up to this time he had done very 
little to justify my suspicion of him. However, I 
returned to the Judge’s after dark. Roblee had 
gone to bed, but Brick, like all niggers, likes to sit 
up late. Presently we heard a knocking below. I 
told Brick to open the window and put his head out. 
He said, ‘Who’s dere?’ and you know whose voice 
replied.” 

“Smalley’s,” she returned, promptly. 

“Yes, Smalley’s. He asked, as smooth as silk, 
Ts Thomas in?’ 

“ ‘What Thomas is dat ?’ asked Brick. 

“ ‘Thomas the coachman,’ replied Smalley. 

“I gave Brick a pull. ‘Brick,’ I said, ‘that’s a 
bad fellow. Set Bylow on him.’ 


Princess Sukey 


256 

“ ‘Isn’t this Mr. Brown’s ?’ Smalley was inquiring 
in guileless surprise. 

“ ‘No, it aint Mistah Brown’s/ replied Brick, ‘but 
dis here dog’ll take you to Mistah Brown,’ and he 
rattled downstairs with Bylow. 

“Smalley ran, and Bylow ran. I knew the dog 
wouldn’t hurt him, but he did some ripping. When 
he and Brick came back I pulled a piece of cloth 
from between the dog’s jaws. I recognized it as a 
sample of Smalley’s smart trousers. He wouldn’t 
do any more reconnoitring round the Judge’s house 
after dark.” 

Mrs. Everest looked puzzled. “I don’t quite un- 
derstand, Barry.” 

“Smalley wanted to see the back of the house 
and to find out what kind of a watch was kept in the 
stable, and if it would be easy to enter the Judge’s 
house at night. I think Bylow informed him on 
these questions. He came early in the evening, so 
as not to risk his reputation by prowling round it 
later. O, he is a clever scamp is Smalley. As soon 
as we got rid of him I hurried down to the public 
library. Now my fears were fulfilled. Smalley 
had designs upon something or some one at one 
hundred and ten. In the library I think I found the 
clew to Smalley’s presence here.” 

“And what was it?” 

He looked round, then got up, went to the door, 
and coming back again sat down and spoke in a 
lower voice: “You don’t know little Bethany’s 
origin ?” 

“No, except that her mother was a lady.” 

“Well, I do. Mrs. Tingsby was very much ex- 


Mafferty Unfolds a Plot 257 

cited at the time the Judge took her, and little by 
little I got the whole story from her. Bethany’s 
father was a scamp, a semi-criminal, or possibly a 
whole one. He was of good stock, though. Her 
mother was a Hittaker.” 

“Of Hittaker’s soap?” 

“The same. There were two Hittaker brothers. 
One made money, the other didn’t. Bethany’s 
grandfather was the unfortunate one. However, 
his rich brother helped him during his lifetime. But 
he wouldn’t help his children, who are now all dead. 
The rich Hittaker is about as mean a man that ever 
lived. He was only good to his own. Now, what 
do you think I found in the New York papers?” 

“Something about the Hittakers, of course,” re- 
plied Mrs. Everest. 

“Just so. A week ago a terrible accident occurred 
to old Hittaker’s daughter, her husband, and chil- 
dren. His son-in-law came from Canada, and he 
had taken his wife and children home on a visit. 
They went sleighing; the ice was rotten on a river 
or lake — I forget which — that they crossed, or, 
rather, I believe it was an airhole they got into. To 
tell the truth, I read the thing in such a hurry lest 
Smalley should come upon me that I don’t remem- 
ber the details. Anyhow, they were all drowned — 
Hittaker’s daughter, her husband, and children.” 

“Dreadful !” murmured Mrs. Everest, with a con- 
traction of her brows. “Who can understand sor- 
row like that?” 

“The papers all agreed in one thing,” continued 
Barry, grimly, “that the old man was floored. You 
see, he had staked all on his only child and her 


Princess Sukey 


258 

children. Now they are taken from him, and he 
has nothing left.” 

He was silent for a few seconds, and Mrs. Ever- 
est said, seriously, “What has this to do with Beth- 
any?” 

“Why, don’t you see, the child is his heir or 
heiress — sole heiress. The papers didn’t say any- 
thing about her. They merely stated that Hittaker 
was without other relatives. Now, as I figure it out, 
Smalley or some of his gang read that account with 
as much interest as I did. Some of them would 
know about Smith — Bethany’s father — having mar- 
ried Hittaker’s niece. I believe that on the strength 
of the old man’s meanness they are counting on the 
assurance that when he recovers from his knock- 
down blow he will be likely to seek Bethany out 
and leave his money to her rather than to 
charity. 

“Well!” said Mrs. Everest, in astonishment. 
“Well, Barry Mafferty, you are a clever man.” 

“Smalley is going to kidnap the little young one,” 
he went on, positively, “as sure as fate, and hold 
her for a ransom from the Judge and old Hittaker, 
so I’ve come to you to talk about it.” 

“Why didn’t you go to the Judge?” 

Barry wrinkled his forehead. “Upon my word, 
I don’t know, unless it is that I don’t believe I could 
bend him to my views as I think I can you and your 
husband, for I want you to consult him.” 

“What do you think the Judge would do?” she 
asked. 

“He’s a very straightforward man,” said Barry, 
thoughtfully. “He wouldn’t shilly-shally with fel- 


Mafferty Unfolds a Plot 


259 

lows like Smalley. He’d run him out of town. 
Now, I’d like to catch him. There was a famous 
child-kidnapping case some time ago in New York. 
I believe Smalley was in it from something I read 
at the time, and beside that I’ve heard of him as a 
kidnapper. If we caught him red-handed now, this 
capture might throw light on the former case. Any- 
how, I’d like to see Smalley shut up. It would be 
for his good.” 

Mrs. Everest’s face had got very red, and Barry, 
seeing it, smiled in gratification. “I knew you would 
be with me,” he went on, “in trying to catch him. 
Anything about children appeals to you.” 

Mrs. Everest tried to speak, but could not. Her 
voice was shaking with anger and emotion. “The 
vile wretch!” she ejaculated at last. “I hope the 
Lord will put some charity in my heart for him, but 
now I am so angry, so angry ! To steal a little one 
— a mere baby !” 

“Well,” said Barry, reassuringly, “we mustn’t 
be too hard on him. We’ve got to watch. But, 
frankly, I must say that I never heard of Smalley 
doing any good thing, and he’s mostly after big 
game. Probably if he’s planning to take the child 
he won’t do it himself. He’ll arrange everything, 
then slip off and have confederates come. You see, 
his face will get known in the city, and he might be 
suspected. But I fancy the confederates will go 
back on him and confess if we capture them.” 

“Well, what do you propose to do?” asked Mrs. 
Everest. 

“I propose selfishly to keep out of the way. Smal- 
ley might possibly recognize me if he saw me, and 


26 o 


Princess Sukey 


if he recognized me the whole thing would be up. 
He’d know I would give him away.” 

‘‘We could not warn Bethany.” 

“O, no, that would not be wise.” 

“We should keep the children from knowledge 
of the evil in the world as long as possible,” con- 
tinued Mrs. Everest. “At the same time, I don’t 
think it does any harm to tell any child to be careful 
about talking to strangers or going with them.” 

“I wouldn’t say a word to her,” said Barry, em- 
phatically. 

“What would you do?” 

“I’d speak to the English boy; he’s had some 
experience of the world. Tell him to keep a lookout 
for strangers prowling about the house, but not to 
be too watchful. And I’d warn the little girl’s 
school-teacher. I guess about the only time of day 
she’s alone is when she goes to and comes from 
school. That’s the time of all she’s got to be 
watched.” 

“I know who’ll do that without attracting atten- 
tion,” said Mrs. Everest, promptly. 

“Who is it?” 

“Cracker, the ex-newspaper boy. He is so bad, 
and has nothing to do, so I got him a bicycle. The 
avenue is his favorite riding place.” 

“Good,” remarked Barry, in a low voice. “And 
he’ll delight in watching some one worse than him- 
self. Can you trust him, though ?” 

“Yes, I have means to bind him, and he really 
seems attached to me. I have him sleeping in this 
house now. He was so dreadful that no one would 
take him. His grandfather’s life was worried out 


Mafferty Unfolds a Plot 261 

of him. He is on very good behavior now, for he 
likes to be here.” 

“Well, try him, and now, to catch these fellows 
red-handed, we’ve got to be mighty careful, for 
they are as shy as wild ducks and as clever as foxes.” 

“Hello !” said a hearty voice, “whom have you got 
here, Berty? O, meow, meow, as baby says when 
he sees Barry. How do you do, Mafferty?” and 
Mrs. Everest’s happy-looking young husband strode 
into the room. 

“Bonny is in the hall,” he said to his wife, “look- 
ing for the best place to show off his fine new spring 
hat — for spring is coming, Mafferty. Do the pus- 
sies tell you that?” 

“You know my brother Boniface,” said Mrs. 
Everest, under her breath, to her caller. “Let us 
tell him, too. He is very discreet.” 

Barry nodded, and presently the three young peo- 
ple and the middle-aged man were all seated in a 
corner of the parlor talking in low tones of the best 
plan to be adopted to safeguard the rights of the 
little child and to punish the guilty unfortunates 
who wished to invade them. 


CHAPTER XXII 
The Judge Gets a Shock 

Princess Sukey stood severely staring at the 
Judge. 

He was in his favorite place — in his own study, 
with his own dear books, in his own capacious arm- 
chair, and with his door wide open for little Beth- 
any^ noon homecoming. 

It was not yet time for her to come, and to-day 
she would be late, for she had warned “Daddy 
Grandpa” that she must stay for a few minutes after 
school to talk about a birthday party that one of 
her schoolmates was about to give. 

In the meantime the Judge, sitting comfortably 
back in his chair, was occupied with his own 
thoughts, and uncommonly lively thoughts they 
were, judging by his face. 

The pigeon stared still more severely. Being of 
a serious disposition, she never approved of laugh- 
ter — and the Judge was laughing now. 

He was thinking of Airy. Her pranks amused 
him immensely. The day before she had been in- 
vited to dine with him. The Judge could see her 
coming into the room, her mouth primly set, her 
sharp eyes going to and fro. She did nothing spon- 
taneously. With slavish imitation she studied the 
other children. She ate as Bethany did, she made 


The Judge Gets a Shock 263 

use of Dallas's and Titus's phrases, and if she had 
not one of theirs at hand she kept silence. 

“Upon my word, Sukey," said the Judge, mis- 
chievously, to the pigeon, “I believe Airy is going 
to make a lady of herself, after all. They say that a 
faithful imitation is a good original. I foresee, 
though, many lessons ahead for us. The little witch 
has made up her mind to spend a good part of her 
time in studying us. Well, we don’t care — we don’t 
care," and he laughed again. 

“It seems to me," he said at last, taking off his 
glasses and wiping them with his handkerchief, 
“that I laugh far more over children than I used to. 
I believe that as a young man I took my family too 
seriously. Certain it is that I get more real amuse- 
ment and enjoyment out of the children of my adop- 
tion than I did out of my own dear little ones. How 
I wish I had them round me now !" and he sighed. 

The pigeon wrathfully shook herself. She wanted 
no more children about. There were too many now 
for her taste, and elevating her head she said, 
sharply, a great many times, “Rookety cahoo! rook- 
ety cahoo!" 

The Judge looked at her. Her greenish-yellow 
eyes were fixed on him with a steady glare. They 
seemed to mesmerize him, and in two minutes the 
Judge’s dear old white head was nodding. 

He was having forty winks before luncheon, but 
during the forty winks he had time to dream. He 
was facing a crowded courtroom, there was trouble 
somewhere; he did not seem to know just what it 
was. A great noise and confusion uprose. He tried 
to speak, but could not, and in his distress he awoke. 


Princess Sukey 


264 

When he went to sleep the room had been quiet, 
the house was quiet, the street was quiet. Now the 
noise in his dream seemed to have followed him into 
real life — or did he fancy it? and he put up a hand 
as if to stop the singing in his ears. He hoped he 
was not getting deaf. 

There certainly was a noise, a great noise abroad, 
and it was not in his ears. He heard carriages in 
the street and banging of doors, loud voices in the 
hall below, and now there were persons rushing 
upstairs. 

He was still slightly confused. He had a vision 
of the pigeon listening, her hooded head on one 
side, her body vibrating with anger, then a dozen 
or more persons hurried into the room and invaded 
his armchair. 

The Judge sat helplessly back and looked at them. 
What was the matter ? 

Foremost among the newcomers was young Mrs. 
Everest, her face like a poppy, the plumes of her big 
hat nodding against his white head as she bent over 
him. 

She was almost screaming, she was so excited. 
“You dear old man, Tve always wanted to kiss you, 
and Pm going to do so now.” 

The Judge smiled feebly. Did she, too, want to 
be adopted? He made no resistance, but he cer- 
tainly made no response as her affectionate arms 
were thrown round him and a kiss was sweetly 
placed on his forehead. 

It was a congratulatory embrace, he felt that; 
but what had he done, what had happened ? 

“Allow me to shake hands and felicitate you,” 


The Judge Gets a Shock 265 

said a second joyful voice, and Berty’s husband 
seized and wrung his hand. 

The Judge struggled out of his chair. There 
was Berty’s brother Boniface, there were several 
young Everests, there were Charlie Brown, Titus, 
Dallas, and some other boys that he did not know, 
and what were those two young fellows doing with 
notebooks ? Reporters, of course. Oblivious of the 
chatter and confusion about them they were rapidly 
taking notes, their eyes going all round the room, 
even to the top of the bookcase, where stood an in- 
dignant, frightened pigeon looking down at this 
invasion of her home. 

The Judge soon forgot the reporters. He was 
just about to ask what he had done that he should 
be written up for the press when his dismayed eyes 
fell on a little creature somewhat in the back- 
ground. 

Who was that? If he were in his sane mind he 
would say that it was Bethany dressed as a boy. 
Her hair was cut short, she had on a boy’s suit of 
clothes, and, astonishing to tell, she, quite oblivious 
of the laughing and talking about her, was amusing 
herself by playing horse on a chair that she had 
overturned. 

She was astride it. “Gee up, horsie,” the Judge 
heard her say, and she whipped and beat the chair 
with her plump little palm. 

The Judge gazed helplessly at Mrs. Everest and 
ejaculated, “Is she crazy?” 

“Poor little dear,” said the young woman, indig- 
nantly, “those wretches played on her lively imag- 
ination and tried to transform her into a boy.” 


266 


Princess Sukey 


“What wretches ?" asked the Judge, feebly, but 
Mrs. Everest had too little command of herself to 
answer him. “There's the Mayor," she cried, “I 
hear his voice," and she ran out in the hall. 

“More carriages!" one young Everest squealed, 
and they, too, dashed out. 

“Tom Everest," said the Judge, solemnly, to 
Berty’s husband, “what is this all about?" 

“Yes, sir," said Tom, absently, and the Judge 
knew that he had not heard his question, for he 
continued a lively conversation that he was having 
with Boniface. 

“I tell you, Bonny, that you shan't take all the 
credit from our police force. It's all very well for 
those New York men to crow. They weren't in it." 

“They were, Tom," replied Bonny, indignantly. 

The Judge stared. Boniface Gravely was a young 
elegant who prided himself on his good manners. 
What dispute had he come here in his study to 
settle? He never had seen him out of temper be- 
fore. Now he was red and flushed, and looked as if 
he could strike his brother-in-law. 

The Judge caught other phrases from other ex- 
cited ones. “The police — cab — driving fast — run- 
ning away — railway station — caught them in time." 
Something startling had evidently happened. 

He put out one of his long arms and drew Titus 
toward him. “Grandson, what is all this about?" 

“B-b-lest if I know," said Titus, bluntly. “I 
never saw such a mix-up in my life. The people 
are just pouring into the house, and they’re all too 
excited to explain. I tried to get hold of Dallas, 
but he's sparring over there in a corner with the 


The Judge Gets a Shock 267 

dirtiest little ragamuffin I ever saw. He’s called 
Cracker, and I guess Dallas saw him stealing some- 
th ing.” 

“You might keep your eyes open, Titus,” groaned 
the Judge. “I never had such an irruption into my 
house as this before.” 

“W-w-whatever it is, Bethany’s in it,” said Titus. 
“I hear them talking about her.” 

“Can’t you get hold of her, Titus, and take those 
clothes off?” 

Titus looked sharply at him. His grandfather’s 
voice was almost childish. These people were driv- 
ing him distracted. 

“Come out in the hall, grandfather,” he said, 
taking him by the arm, “the air is cooler.” 

“Law me,” he groaned, when they reached the 
hall window, “look at the carriages dashing down 
the avenue. The Brown-Gardners’ and the Darley- 
Jameses’, and the Rector’s — ” 

“Titus,” called a sudden voice, “there’s a depu- 
tation from your school coming. They’ve just tele- 
phoned. Can you go down and receive them?” 

“No, I can’t,” growled Titus, “I’m going to stay 
with grandfather. Go yourself.” 

Dallas raised himself on tiptoe and stared across 
some heads at them. 

“Anything I can do for the Judge?” he asked, 
calling a halt in his excitement. 

“No,” responded Titus, “go on. I’ll stay with 
him.” 

“A telephone message for Mr. Tom Everest,” 
called a piercing voice. “His father wants him on 
business at the iron works.” 


268 


Princess Sukey 


The Judge straightened his tall form and looked 
in through the open door of his study. A strange 
young man sat at his telephone desk. He was re- 
ceiving and giving messages, as if the house 
belonged to him. 

“The Mayor to see the Judge, the Mayor, the 
Mayor,” reiterated a number of voices, and a pas- 
sage was made between the people, who by this 
time crowded the staircase and the upper hall. 

Titus guided his grandfather to the big hall win- 
dow and threw it wide open. 

Mr. Jimson, the Mayor, was a medium-sized, 
bluff, hearty man, for whom the Judge had great 
respect. He was a man who made no pretensions 
to elegance, but the Judge admired him for his 
honesty. This was his second term as mayor. Dur- 
ing the first one he had threatened to resign on 
account of corruption in civic affairs. He had been 
urged to remain in office by all the best citizens of 
the town, and owing to their efforts many reforms 
had been effected. 

Just now he was beaming on the Judge. 

“Congratulations!” he said, extending a hand 
and heartily shaking the Judge’s. “I’m glad you 
caught those fellows.” 

“Thank you,” said the Judge, simply. He pos- 
sessed a certain kind of pride that would not allow 
him to seek information from the chief official of 
the city, even though he seemed the only one capa- 
ble of giving it. 

“Just look at the people swarming down the ave- 
nue,” continued the Mayor. “I wish the people of 
Riverport held me in such estimation. This your 


The Judge Gets a Shock 269 

grandson? How do you do, young sir? I’m pleased 
to meet you,” and he shook hands with Titus. 

Titus was as proud as his grandfather, so he, too, 
did not seek enlightenment. 

Suddenly Mrs. Everest stood at the Judge’s side. 
He did not know how she got there. 

“ Worked my shoulders through the press,” she 
said, gayly; “there’s an art in it. You turn one 
blade, then the other, and they cut the crowd. Dear 
Judge, the house is packed — not another one can 
get in. They’re lining up on the sidewalk and the 
middle of the street. Just see. You can’t shake 
hands with all. You’ll have to make a speech.” 

As if her thought had communicated itself to the 
crowd, or, rather, perhaps, that the people on the 
street had caught sight of the Judge’s white head, 
there arose a sudden cry, “Speech! Speech!” 

The Judge looked helplessly about him. 

The jam on the staircase, in the hall, and in the 
study took up the cry, “Speech ! Speech !” 

The Judge, brought to bay, turned rebukingly to 
Mrs. Everest. “Speech! Speech! but what shall I 
speechify about?” 

“Why, about this trouble — about your loss and — ” 

“Speak louder, I beg,” exclaimed the Judge, put- 
ting his hand behind his ear and bending down to 
catch her words. “There is such a roaring that I 
can’t hear.” 

She put up her lips, and in a clear, flutelike voice 
called out to him, “Exhort them to love their homes 
and families, to keep them pure, to protect their 
children. I think you’ll do best on general lines. 
Don’t make personal references,” 


Princess Sukey 


270 

The Judge set his face. “I see,” he said, firmly, 
“that is some kind of a complimentary demonstra- 
tion, but I am not the kind of man to talk about a 
thing I do not understand. Tell me in a few words 
what all this means.” 

Berty stared at him in amazement. “Has no one 
told you?” she vociferated. 

He shook his head. “No one.” 

“Kidnapers tried to steal Bethany,” she cried. 
“We rescued her. The people are glad.” 

The Judge understood. “Thank you,” he said, 
gravely. Then he faced the crowd in the street. 

It was not a cold day, and the really soft spring 
wind blew aside his white hair as he looked from 
the window at his assembled and assembling citi- 
zens, for others were yet arriving. 

For just one instant he faltered. He was not a 
public speaker, and he had never addressed a crowd 
like this. He might have failed, or he might have 
made a lame and halting speech, if it had not been 
for the presence of a hand somewhat smaller than 
his own. 

Titus was standing by him, his own dear grand- 
son was watching him anxiously. The Judge 
thought of him and of the other children of his 
family. He would speak so that they might be 
proud of him, and his voice rang out on the clear 
noonday air : “My dear fellow citizens, I thank you 
for this grand sympathetic gathering. In trouble 
or in joy, the inhabitants of a city should stand 
together. Stand by each other, and stand by your 
families. We read in Holy Writ that God setteth 
the solitary in families ; also that ye shall not afflict 


271 


The Judge Gets a Shock 

any widow or fatherless child. Now, a fatherless 
child has been afflicted. Wicked men attempted to 
lay hands upon her, but they were defeated. ,, 

A burst of applause interrupted the Judge, and 
with his blood tingling in his veins he went on with 
the delivery of the best twenty-minute impromptu 
speech that had ever been given in Riverport, so the 
newspapers said next day. 

The speech was not concluded with as much dig- 
nity as it had been begun. It certainly had a more 
affecting conclusion than beginning. The Judge 
was just about to close. He was about to thank his 
friends and acquaintances and well wishers for the 
honor they had done him, when out of the pro- 
found silence about him there arose a little cry — a 
child’s cry. 

Bethany, happy at first in her play at riding a 
horse, had soon become alarmed by the continued 
influx of strangers. Some kind-hearted persons had 
taken it upon themselves to comfort her, and for a 
time had succeeded. 

The child, however, wanted Daddy Grandpa, and 
refused to be consoled for his absence. She did 
not care if he were making a speech, and her wail- 
ing cry grew louder and louder, until at last some 
one had the happy thought of passing her out to the 
Judge. She was lifted along from one set of strong 
arms to another, until at last her little feet were on 
the window sill beside the Judge, and her arms were 
about his neck. 

The close-cropped head was laid across his mouth. 
He could not utter a word. The crowd understood 
the little affectionate, frightened, childish embrace, 


Princess Sukey 


272 

and a tremendous cheering and clapping broke 
out. 

The Judge fell back from the window, and the 
Mayor stepped forward. 

“Three cheers for the Judge,” he said, waving 
his hat in the air, “and then three cheers for the 
children of Riverport.” 

The cheers were given with a will, and then the 
crowd began to disperse. 

Titus slipped up to Mrs. Everest. “Look here, 
Mrs. Berty, send all these folks out of the house. I 
can’t, as I’m under my own roof. It’s too much 
for grandfather.” 

“Very well,” she said, nodding her black head. 
“I’ll just let a few stay.” 

“Don’t you let anyone stay,” the boy said, obsti- 
nately, “but yourself. Grandfather will want you 
to explain this affair to him.” 

“Not my brother and the Mayor?” she said, wist- 
fully. 

“No brothers and no mayors,” said the boy. 
“Excuse me for seeming rude, but grandfather 
looks pale. He wasn’t well yesterday.” 

Mrs. Everest ran up to the Mayor and whispered 
to him. 

He was a man of businesslike methods, and in ten 
minutes there wasn’t a person in the house outside 
the family, except Mrs. Tom Everest, though a few 
groups still loitered on the sidewalk. 

She went into the study with the Judge and Beth- 
any, and Titus ran downstairs to tell Higby to let 
no one come upstairs without permission. 

Titus could not find Higby at first. After a time 


The Judge Gets a Shock 273 

he discovered him behind the door in the pantry, 
crying in a low and dispirited way. 

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked. 

Higby raised a tearful face. 

“Mi-mi-missis Blodgett slapped me.” 

“And what did she slap you for? I’ll bet you 
deserved it.” 

“I-I-I’m a bachelor,” whimpered Higby, “a-a-an’ 
she’s a widder.” 

“Well, suppose you are, and suppose she is,” said 
the boy, impatiently, “what of it? She wouldn’t 
slap you for that ?” 

“When I-I-I saw the crowd I thought she m-m- 
might be scared, an’ I put m-m-my arm round her.” 

“Scared! You goose, you’d scare quicker than 
she would.” 

“An’ she sl-sl-slapped me,” continued Higby, 
dolefully, “an’ she said, ‘You sas-sas-sassy ole dog. 
An’ I-I-I aint a dog.” 

“More’s the pity,” said Titus, unfeelingly. “You’d 
have more sense if you were. Now, listen to me. 
Grandfather wants to keep quiet. If anyone comes 
to see him put him or her in the parlor and come 
for me. If you let anyone upstairs without orders 
from us I’ll give you a slap compared with which 
Mrs. Blodgett’s would be a caress. Do you under- 
stand?” and he took the old man by the shoulder 
and gently shook him. 

Higby smiled through his tears. “B-b-bless you, 
Master Titus. You want to m-m-make ole Higby 
laugh.” 

“Do you understand ?” asked the boy. 

The old man nodded. 


274 


Princess Sukey 


“Put your handkerchief in your pocket,” com- 
manded Titus. 

Higby did so. 

“Stand up, walk out into the hall, strut a little, if 
you can.” 

Higby, with a wan smile, tried to strut, and to 
such good effect that Titus, taken with a sudden fit of 
laughter and choking, was obliged to retire behind 
the pantry door. Presently he came out. 

“Higby, repeat after me: ‘A bachelor's life is a 
lively life.’ ” 

“A-a-a ba-ba-bachelor’s life is a 1-1-lovely life.” 

“Lively, you goose.” 

“L-l-lively life.” 

“None of your widows for me.” 

“None of your w-w-widders for me.” 

“Now, don’t you feel better?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Higby. “I’ll put me a-a-arm 
round the stair post afore I-I-IT1 put it round that 
widder again,” and he marched valiantly up to the 
aforesaid post and struck it with such vehemence 
and comicality that Titus put down his head and ran 
precipitately upstairs. 

Higby’s admiration for Mrs. Blodgett was a 
standing joke in the family. 


CHAPTER XXIII 
Mrs. Everest Begins to Explain 

Titus found his grandfather sitting in his arm- 
chair, with Bethany on her little stool at his feet. 
Her head was pressed against him. Her eyes were 
red and troubled, and occasionally she caught her 
breath in a faint sob. 

Mrs. Everest sat opposite them, and on seeing 
Titus she said, eagerly, “Come, boy, we are just 
waiting for you.” Then she turned to the Judge. 
“Do I understand you to say that you have not the 
slightest inkling of all that occurred to-day ?” 

“It would perhaps not be right to say that I have 
not the slightest inkling,” returned the Judge. “I 
see that something important has happened — some 
attempt on Bethany’s life or liberty, I imagine. I 
am in possession of not one detail.” 

“Do you mean to say that no one told you about 
it?” said Mrs. Everest, incredulously. “Why did 
not some of those people explain to you? I de- 
pended on them. I was busy looking after the 
people myself, and I wanted to say a few words to 
the reporters. Some things we don’t want to get 
in the press. Why, where was Dallas? He knew 
all about it.” 

“Here,” exclaimed a sudden voice, and the Eng- 
lish boy pushed open the door and came in. He was 
red and flushed, and looked tired. 


Princess Sukey 


276 

“If I haven’t had a dance after that firecracker !” 
he exclaimed. “What a beast of a boy! He was 
stealing right and left here, or trying to. I had to 
drag him with me wherever I went. First of all, 
he brought his wheel into the house by the back way 
and broke a stepladder and muddied a lot of clean 
clothes down in the lower hall. Thank fortune, he’s 
gone now. I’ve just escorted him to the corner of 
the first street.” 

Mrs. Everest looked anxious. “I must hurry 
home and talk to him. But first to enlighten you, 
dear Judge. I shall begin at the first. Two weeks 
ago Barry Mafferty came to me in great anxiety. 
Now, this mustn’t be talked about. You boys will 
be careful not to say anything about him. Dear 
little Bethany is going to sleep,” and she threw a 
compassionate glance at the tired face against the 
Judge’s knee. 

“You don’t wish Mafferty’s name mentioned in 
connection with the affair,” said the Judge, 
shrewdly. 

“Not a murmur of it. You see, he used to be a 
miserable sort of a man, and now he is really re- 
forming. Well, he said a man he knew to be a 
criminal was prowling about your house. He made 
up his mind — indeed, he had cause to do so — that 
the fellow had designs upon some one in your fam- 
ily. He decided that it was Bethany, for he found 
out that old Mr. Hittaker — ” 

She paused an instant for breath, as she was 
speaking very rapidly, and the Judge, with a faint 
gleam of amusement passing over his face, inquired, 
“Of Hittaker’s soap?” 


Mrs. Everest Begins to Explain 277 

“The same. Poor old man, he had lost his daugh- 
ter, her husband, and her children. He hadn’t a 
relative in the world left but Bethany. Mafferty 
said that probably some nest of criminals had de- 
cided to steal Bethany, on the supposition that she 
would be made old Mr. Hittaker’s heiress, or, even 
if she weren’t, that you would be willing to pay a 
considerable sum to get her back.” 

The Judge shook his head. “I don’t know how it 
is, but an impression has got out that I am worth 
a great deal more money than I really possess. I 
suppose it is because I stopped working when I 
thought I had enough, and because I spend what I 
have, instead of hoarding it.” 

“You could not be mean,” said Mrs. Everest. 
“You are very generous and very sensible. Well, 
to continue. Barry was greatly excited, and didn’t 
want to trouble you in the affair, so he enlisted my 
aid and my husband’s. Then, too, he wanted to 
catch the would-be kidnapers, and he was afraid 
you would not wait for them as we have done. It 
was sorry work, in a way, but both my husband and 
Barry said that anyone bad enough to carry off a 
child should be caught and shut up.” 

“So you have been playing detective?” said the 
Judge, and his eyes sparkled with interest and a 
slight inclination to tease. 

“Yes, dear Judge, amateur detectives. We did 
nothing to entice to crime. We merely waited. I 
knew, Barry knew, my husband knew, Roblee, your 
coachman, knew, Mrs. Hume knew. Cracker, the 
naughty Cracker, was merely told to watch certain 
people, and he has been scorching up and down this 


Princess Sukey 


278 

avenue like a thing possessed. We did not call in 
the aid of the local police or the New York police 
till the last day or two. Two young newspaper men 
here have helped us wonderfully. One of them 
guarded Jennie.” 

“Jennie!” exclaimed the Judge. 

“O, yes ; I forgot to say that she had to be told, 
too. Those scamps found out that she slept in the 
room with Bethany and had charge of her, so they 
tried to become friendly with her in order to get 
information from her. One of them came here one 
day in the guise of a workman.” 

“Who came ?” 

“One of this gang of miscreants. He rang the 
bell, walked in, said he was a workman come to do 
the window shades in the attic. Jennie went up 
with him, and when he got in the attic she found 
there weren’t any shades to mend; they were all 
in order. He laughed and said he had come to the 
wrong house ; then he rather made friends with her 
and said he was a stranger in the city. He wished 
she would show him about a little. Would she take 
a walk with him the next afternoon?” 

“She did not go, of course?” said the Judge. 

“She did,” said Mrs. Everest, reluctantly; “she 
mistook her instructions. We would not have had 
her go with him for the world ; but you may be sure 
she did not go alone.” 

“Why did you not stop her, if you did not wish 
her to go?” inquired the Judge, slightly wrinkling 
his forehead. 

“I did not know about it, dear Judge. You see, 
it was this way : One of those young reporters had 


Mrs. Everest Begins to Explain 279 

engaged a room in that quiet street around the cor- 
ner from here, where Bethany goes to school. What 
is the name of it?” 

Titus supplied the name. “It is Garden Street, 
Mrs. Everest.” 

“O, yes — Garden Street. Well, Mr. Busby took 
a room opposite Mrs. Hume’s. Jennie consulted 
him, and he told her to go with the man. He would 
be near her. So Jennie went, and Cracker, scooting 
after her, reported her movements to Harry Busby. 
The pretended workman, who called himself Simp- 
son, acted like a gentleman. He talked nicely to 
Jennie, took her for a walk down Broadway, and 
invited her to go into Duffy’s for ice cream.” 

The Judge did not like this, and Mrs. Everest 
hastened on : “She did it for Bethany, dear Judge. 
She felt terribly embarrassed. You know what a 
nice, quiet girl Jennie is — not one to take up with 
strangers at all. However, when it came to the ice 
cream she thought she had gone far enough, and 
Harry Busby released her. She put up her hand 
and took off her veil. That was a sign that she was 
tired of the affair. Busby was watching her through 
the doorway. He came in, pretended to be an old 
friend, and that he was jealous to find her with a 
stranger, and in a quiet way made her come with 
him.” 

“And what came out of that escapade?” asked 
the Judge, with emphasis. 

“Nothing, except that the stranger found that he 
could not gain any control over Jennie.” 

“Did he ask her any questions about Beth- 
any ?” 


28 o 


Princess Sukey 


“Not one; he was evidently planning that for an- 
other meeting. But he never saw Jennie again. 
Foiled in that, the kidnapers turned their whole 
attention on gaining control of the child herself. By 
the way, we found out that there were just two at 
first — two young men. One, whose real name was 
Smalley, called himself Givins; the other, his con- 
federate, who tried to deceive Jennie, called himself 
Simpson, as I said before. Barry didn’t know his 
real name.” 

“Do you suppose Smalley was the right name of 
the first one?” asked the Judge, searchingly. 

“O, no, but that is the name he mostly goes by, 
Barry says. Anyway, we had these two fellows well 
watched, and cleverly watched, for they did not 
suspect us. You see, there were so many of us, and 
they were only two. Well, two days ago they both 
disappeared, and at this point we took our city 
detectives and the New York detectives into our 
confidence. One of our own men went to New York 
with Givins and Simpson, reported to an agency 
there, and the two men have been watched. We 
hope to hear of their arrest any time now.” 

“Well, this is a plot,” said the Judge, drawing a 
long breath. 

Mrs. Everest nodded her pretty head at him. 
“You don’t quite approve, Judge. I see it in your 
eye. O, if you knew what a pleasure it has been 
to watch over your interests!” 

The Judge looked gratified. “My dear child, I 
thank you,” he said, heartily ; “but look there,” and 
he turned abruptly to Dallas and Titus. 

The two boys’ faces were red; their heads and 


Mrs. Everest Begins to Explain 281 

bodies, too, for that matter, were bending forward. 
They were absolutely hanging on every word she 
uttered. 

“Just see them,” said the Judge, ironically, “their 
young eyes starting out of their heads. You know 
what my career has been. I may say that mine has 
been a profession that I have kept separate from my 
home interests. I early made up my mind that, as 
far as possible, it is best to keep the evil and the 
good apart. Not one word has my family ever 
heard me utter with regard to the process of liti- 
gating or carrying on suits in courts of law or equity 
or on the darker world of criminal actions and cases. 
I know that the human mind, and especially the 
youthful mind, is curious, morbidly curious, with 
respect to the proceedings by which a person accused 
of crime is brought to trial and judgment. I don't 
think that that curiosity ought to be gratified.” 

“Nor I,” replied Mrs. Everest, “but surely this 
is an exceptional case.” 

“Possibly,” returned the Judge, “possibly. Please 
continue your story.” 

She smiled sweetly at him, and went on : “After 
Simpson and Smalley, alias Givins, left here, two 
strange women arrived. But we didn't know it. 
Of all the travelers arriving here daily, we could 
not be supposed to know at first sight which ones 
were criminals. However, we did not relax our 
vigilance with regard to Bethany. No stranger 
could approach her, or any member of your family, 
without our knowledge. Sure enough, this morning 
the kidnaping attempt was to be made.” 

“Pardon me,” interrupted the Judge, “but there 


28 2 


Princess Sukey 


is a great noise in the hall below. It goes through 
my head. Titus, will you see about it?” 

The Judge was the only one that had heard the 
noise. The others had been so absorbed in Mrs. 
Everest’s recital, and she herself was still so much 
excited, that she was only aware of what was going 
on immediately about her. 

Titus sprang up and, running out into the hall, 
looked over the stair railing. 

Poor old Higby, in trouble once more, was execut- 
ing a kind of war dance round a young man that 
Titus speedily recognized as Mrs. Everest’s husband. 

Titus clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent 
an explosion of laughter, and for a few instants 
wickedly did not interfere. 

“Let me by, you old scamp,” Tom Everest was 
saying, half in amusement, half in irritability. 
“Don’t you know me? Why, I’ve been coming to 
this house ever since I was knee-high to a grass- 
hopper.” 

“C-c-can’t help it,” replied Higby, flourishing a 
broom that he held in his hand. “You aint a-a- 
a-goin’ up.” 

“You old dog — get out of my way — isn’t my wife 
up there?” 

“S-s-stand back,” vociferated Higby, “or I shall 
h-h-hit you with this broom.” 

“Why, Higby, you’re crazy,” said Tom, good- 
naturedly. “I tell you my wife is up there. Would 
you separate man and wife? I’m going up, any- 
way. Now, once more, and for the last time, will 
you announce me ?” 

Higby shook his head. Tom gave a grunt of 


Mrs. Everest Begins to Explain 283 

disapproval, and adroitly taking his broom from 
him put it over his shoulder and began to march 
upstairs with it. 

Higby came scrambling, stuttering, and scolding 
after him, and Tom, mischievously allowing him to 
come quite near, would then take a short run. 

“Hello, Tom,” said Titus, familiarly. 

“Hello,” returned Tom, looking up. “Since when 
has this castle been in a state of siege? Here, re- 
tainer, take your flintlock,” and he gayly gave 
Higby a playful dig with the broom as he handed it 
to him. 

“Since the assault this morning,” said Titus, with 
a laugh. 

“I declare,” said Tom, looking down at Higby 
with a whimsical face, “I was just about to lift up 
my voice and ask you to call off your dog. I believe 
the old fellow has gone crazy. Look at him pranc- 
ing up and down with that broom over his shoulder.” 

“Higby,” said Titus, staring down at him, “put 
down that broom.” 

“Y-y-yes, sir.” 

“And sit down and rest yourself,” continued 
Titus, anxiously. “You look tired. I believe the 
events of the morning have upset him,” he said 
under his breath to Tom. “I found him crying just 
now.” 

“He isn’t crying now,” said Tom, pointedly. 

Higby, in a state of silly glee, was seated in one 
of the high-backed hall chairs, making a succession 
of most extraordinary and most uncouth noises. 

“Man, what are you trying to do?” called Titus, 
severely. 


284 


Princess Sukey 


“B-b-bow-wow ! I’m practicin' a-barkin',” re- 
plied Higby, with a wild burst of laughter. “ Tis 
the second time this mOrnin' I've been called a 
d-d-dog. Missis Blodgett, she begun it. M-m-mis- 
ter Everest here, he went on with it. Bow-wow- 
wow ! Ole Higby’s a d-d-dog. Ha ! ha ! ha !” 

“He’s off his head this time, Titus, sure pop,” 
said Tom. “He acted like a fool when I arrived. 
Shut the door in my face, and when I went round 
the back way he heard me coming and met me with 
that broom.” 

“Higby,” said Titus, quietly. 

“Y-y-yes, sir.” 

“Come here.” 

The old man got up and came giggling upstairs. 

“Go down to the kitchen,” commanded Titus, 
“and tell Jennie that you are going to retire to your 
room for the rest of the day. Then march upstairs, 
take off your clothes, and get into bed. Do you hear 
me ?” 

“W-w-we're a-goin’ to have some d-d-delicious 
jelly for luncheon,” said Higby, anxiously. 

“You shall have some. I'll see that a big tray of 
everything going is sent to your room. Now 
hurry.” 

“B-b-bow-wow,” murmured Higby, under his 
breath. 

“And Higby,” said Tom, kindly, “I was only in 
fun when I called you a dog. You're not one really, 
you know.” 

“Be I a c-c-cat,” inquired Higby, mildly. 

Tom's evil genius prompted him to yield to his 
impulse to make fun. 


Mrs. Everest Begins to Explain 285 

“Yes,” he said, wildly, “meow, meow, poor pussy. 
Scat! Scat!” 

He pretended to spit and hiss, and Higby scuttled 
precipitately downstairs. 

Tom watched him going, then he said, soberly, 
“How much would you sell that fellow for, Titus?” 

“Grandfather likes him,” said the boy, briefly, 
and he was nasty to you because he had been told 
to let no one in.” 

“Does your grandfather let your servants eat just 
what you do?” inquired Tom, curiously. 

“The very same. You ought to see his bills in 
strawberry season.” 

“Berty does the same; everyone in the house 
shares alike,” continued Tom, “but my people don’t. 
They would think they couldn’t afford it. Hello, 
here we are,” and he entered the Judge’s study. 

“How do you again, sir,” said Tom, shaking 
hands. “I’ve come for my wife, but I thought I’d 
never get here.” 

“Tom, dear, do sit down,” said Berty, eagerly, 
“and listen, or perhaps you can help me with my 
story. I was just at the most exciting part.” 

Tom and Titus seated themselves side by side on 
the sofa, and Mrs. Everest continued. 


CHAPTER XXIV 
The Explanation Continued 

“As I was saying when Titus left the room, this 
morning was the time fixed by the kidnapers for 
their grand stroke. You, in all ignorance of it, and 
we, too, for that matter, though we were all on the 
alert, watched little Bethany go to school. She was 
quietly and happily doing her tasks with the other 
children when at ten o’clock there was an arrival 
at her teacher’s front door.” 

“I think you said that you took Mrs. Hume into 
your confidence,” remarked the Judge. 

“Yes, sir, we did; therefore when her maid said 
that there was a carriage at the door and that a 
young woman wished to see her, Mrs. Hume went 
quickly to her little parlor. She said a respectably 
dressed young person stood there and said that you 
had sent her — ” 

“That I?” inquired the Judge. 

“Yes, that you, Judge Sancroft, had requested 
her to call and get Bethany; that Mrs. Tingsby had 
been taken suddenly ill, and you had gone to her; 
that the doctor was afraid the poor woman would 
die, and she wished to see Bethany. The whole 
thing was quite natural. Under ordinary circum- 
stances Mrs. Hume’s suspicions would not have been 
aroused. However, knowing what we had told her, 


The Explanation Continued 287 

she was on her guard. And then, of course, she did 
not know that the woman’s story was false. She 
asked whether it wasn’t quite a drive out there, and 
the young woman said yes, about five miles. She 
said she was a neighbor of Mrs. Tingsby’s, and 
would take good care of the little girl. Mrs. Hume 
said she would get Bethany ready, and she went 
away, leaving the young woman in the parlor. Now, 
we had had a telephone put into Mrs. Hume’s house 
in the attic, and hurrying up there she telephoned 
to you.” 

“I remember,” said the Judge. “She telephoned 
this morning.” 

“She asked whether you were at home.” 

“She did.” 

“And whether the Tingsbys were all well.” 

“And I told her that they were, at last accounts, 
and she abruptly informed me that she would see 
me later in the day, and broke off.” 

“She had to telephone elsewhere,” said Mrs. Ever- 
est, with a smile, “and her time was limited. She 
communicated with Harry Busby, the newspaper 
reporter across the street, who also had a telephone 
in his apartment. ‘Are you watching for that 
blessed child, Mr. Busby?’ she asked. ‘I am watch- 
ing,’ he returned, and then she kissed Bethany and 
led her downstairs.” 

The Judge shook his head. 

“Now, don’t you shake your head,” said Mrs. Ev- 
erest, playfully, “until I finish. Good is coming out 
of all this. Mrs. Hume took Bethany in the parlor, 
she introduced her to the young woman, and Beth- 
any trustfully put out her little hand. She was 


288 Princess Sukey 

quite ready to go with a stranger, if Daddy Grandpa 
wished it.” 

The Judge stretched out a finger and softly 
touched the sleepy head against his knee. 

“Mrs. Hume accompanied them to the front door. 
Take good care of the child/ she said, anxiously, 
and she peered into the interior of the closed 
cab. ‘Who have you got with you?’ ‘My sister/ 
replied the young woman. She came with 
me/ ” 

“You see, there were four accomplices, sir,” said 
Tom Everest, when his wife paused a minute and 
dabbed the perspiration from her face with a hand- 
kerchief. 

“Four? Yes, I understand,” replied the Judge. 
“Mrs. Everest, we are tiring you.” 

“Not at all; I want to tell you. I really enjoy 
giving you the details. Well, Mrs. Hume was in an 
agony when she saw the child drive away, for of 
course she knew that she had delivered her into the 
hands of two scapegrace young women. However, 
she raised her eyes across the street. There was 
Harry Busby throwing open his window and tossing 
aside the curtains. She knew that he had the num- 
ber of the cab, and a description of it, and that he 
had telephoned to police headquarters. The cab 
would hardly be round the corner before a detective 
would be after it. Then there was Cracker scorch- 
ing up and down beside it, his bad little head thrown 
over his handle bars, his gimlet eyes looking every- 
where but at the driver, and yet observing his every 
movement. He remembered his orders. He was 
artlessly to follow any vehicle that left Mrs. Hume’s. 


The Explanation Continued 289 

Bethany was safe, but poor Mrs. Hume was in tor- 
ture. She came on with a raging headache, had to 
send her scholars home, and go to bed.” 

“I should think she needed to,” remarked the 
Judge. 

“Ere this she has heard of our happy issue out of 
our difficulties,” continued Mrs. Everest. “Well, 
our cab went on its way.” 

“Tell the Judge what order the young woman 
gave the driver,” interposed Tom. 

“O, yes, I forgot that. Before they left Mrs. 
Hume’s the young woman said to the cabman, 'Go 
to Jones’s drug store on Broadway.’ Then she ex- 
plained to Mrs. Hume that they had to call there 
for medicine. They were really going to the rail- 
way station, but she didn’t want either Mrs. Hume 
or the cabman to know it. Upon arriving at Jones’s 
the two young women and a little boy stepped out 
of the cab, dismissed the driver, and went in the 
store.” 

“They had metamorphosed Bethany, I suppose,” 
said the Judge, quietly. 

“Yes, sir. As soon as they got her away from 
Mrs. Hume these two women overwhelmed her with 
caresses and gave her a box of candy, which they 
said you had sent her. They also informed her that 
you were going to New York, and that she was to 
go, too ; that you would meet her there. Her grand- 
father, her mother’s father, had heard of her, and 
wanted to see her. He was going to give her a 
lovely house, full of dolls, and birds, and all kinds 
of toys. Now, you see all this harmonized with 
what the child had learned from her mother and 


Princess Sukey 


290 

Mrs. Tingsby. To any ordinary child it might have 
seemed remarkable, but Bethany had been brought 
up on expectations.” 

“Don’t forget the boy part,” suggested her hus- 
band. 

“No, I was just coming to it. These two young 
women told Bethany that in order to please her 
grandfather, who had always wished for a little boy, 
you had requested her to put on boy’s clothes. They 
had this little suit all ready,” and Mrs. Everest 
touched the boyish little garments of the sleeping 
child, “and they hurried her into it, and whipping 
out a pair of scissors cut off her hair before the 
bewildered child had time to protest. She was con- 
fused and submissive, and I fancy they kept stuff- 
ing her mouth with candy, and quoted you to her. 
At the drug store they bought five cents’ worth of 
cough drops, then they went into the street and 
walked a block to the railway station. They did not 
hurry, neither did they dawdle. They did not want 
Bethany to speak to anyone.” 

“Were you watching them then?” inquired the 
Judge. 

“No, sir, but I was requested to go to the station. 
I was to have the proud honor of rescuing Bethany. 
Look here,” and she unbuttoned her jacket and 
showed a little white apron rolled up round her 
waist. I was in the kitchen making cakes. When 
the chief of police telephoned I had just twenty min- 
utes to get to the station. I caught my hat and 
jacket and ran. See, I have no gloves,” and she 
spread out her bare hands. 

Her expression was so good, so genuine, so 


The Explanation Continued 291 

lovely, that the Judge seized one of her hands and 
pressed it warmly. “Go on, my dear girl,” he said, 
affectionately. 

“I just rushed to the station,” she said. “The 
chief of police was there, the chief detective was 
there. One was standing by the ticket office, the 
other was loitering about the platform at which the 
train for Boston and New York was to arrive in 
three minutes. I passed by the ticket office. The 
chief gave a nod in the direction of the platform. 
I hurried on, and my eyes went roving to and fro. 
I saw the two women and the little boy. I saw a 
great many other people, men, women, and children. 
All had the air of going on a journey, and, just to 
show how one's eye needs to be trained for such 
work, I did not recognize Bethany, the two women 
stood so adroitly talking to each, and rather hiding 
her face by their bags and cloaks.” 

“Not purposely hiding?” commented the Judge. 

“O, no, that would have aroused my suspicion at 
once. They stood so naturally that actually the de- 
tective had to come over and stand beside them, 
almost to point to them, before I took in the situa- 
tion. Then I boldly walked up to them. ‘Bethany,' 
I said in a low voice. 

“You should have seen the sharp look these 
women gave me. For just one instant they were 
off their guard. Up to that minute I don’t think 
they had an idea that they were being followed. 
Then they recovered themselves and looked down 
quite composedly at Bethany.” 

“And what did she do?” burst excitedly from 
Titus. 


292 


Princess Sukey 


They all turned to him, and Mrs. Everest went on 
with a smile: “The little creature said, ‘O, Mrs. 
Everest!’ as if she were glad to see some one she 
knew. However, she has not met me so very many 
times, so she was just a little shy. But she put out 
a hand to me, and looked queerly at the women, as 
if she didn’t just like going with them.” 

“Why are you dressed like a little boy ?” I asked, 
“and what are you doing here ?” 

“Is this your little child, madam?” said one of 
the women, respectfully. 

“ ‘No,’ I replied, ‘but I know her. Where did you 
get her?’ 

“ ‘The woman who takes care of the waiting 
room told us that she had been left here. Her 
mother missed her when the last train passed 
through for Boston. She asked us to take charge 
of her, and we consented.’ 

“ ‘Why is she dressed like a boy?’ I asked, 
severely. 

“The young woman shrugged her shoulders. 
‘She is just as we found her.’ 

“Bethany, who had been following our conversa- 
tion with much interest, at this piped up, and point- 
ing to a suit case that one of them carried said, 
‘Bethany’s clothes are in there.’ 

“A very ugly look came over the young woman’s 
face. She knew that she was trapped. I saw her 
glance at the other. Out of the mouth of a little 
child they had been condemned. O, Judge, I looked 
for some sign of softening, some regret, some tender 
feeling. There was nothing. 

“We heard a dull roar in the distance. The 



“Why are you dressed like a little boy?” I asked 





The Explanation Continued 293 

train was coming in. The women looked at each 
other again. They were uncertain just what to do. 
I think they had concluded that I was a chance 
passer-by and had made up their minds to rush for 
the train in the confusion. I had seized Bethany 
tightly by the hand. They knew they could not 
take her with them. 

“ ‘Don’t move/ I said, in a low voice, ‘there are 
two police officers in plain clothes behind you.’ 
Now, you know, Judge, we were all scattered, we 
watchers, even though Bethany had been stolen. 
Harry Busby was still on duty, Cracker was watch- 
ing, the second newspaper reporter was keeping his 
eyes open, and Jennie and Dallas were by no means 
asleep, though, of course, they were busy with their 
respective duties — Jennie here in the house and 
Dallas at school. But we weren’t sure of the plan 
of the miscreants, Barry warned us. He said, ‘Don’t 
let them fool you by dragging a red herring across 
your track.’ We did not know the extent of their 
designs. Bethany’s capture might have been only 
the preliminary to something else. However, as it 
turns out, it was the beginning and end, and quite 
enough it is, I think.” 

“What about the women?” asked the Judge. 

“O, the train thundered in and thundered out. 
We wanted to see if they would have any confed- 
erates on board. No one got off to meet them, and 
then we turned. Such a quiet little group — the two 
women, Bethany, two policemen, and I. We walked 
down the platform together. The women were 
clever enough not to make a fuss. When we got 
to the place where the carriages stand there was 


Princess Sukey 


294 

Mr. McIntyre, the detective, holding open a carriage 
door. The two women got in, and he followed 
them. I could not leave them that way. I rushed 
impulsively up to the door. I said, ‘O, tell me you 
are sorry for this/ It seemed to me that even then 
I could have forgiven them for their crime if there 
had been the least sign of contrition.” 

“Did they say anything to you, Berty?” asked 
her husband, eagerly. 

“One of them sneered, the other made a dreadful 
remark in which she invoked vengeance on me for 
interfering with their scheme. It was no time to 
reason with them. They were too sore over their 
defeat, but I shall take pains to see them to-morrow.” 

“If the affair was managed so quietly, how is it 
that it got over the city so quickly?” inquired the 
Judge. 

Berty laughed gleefully. “O, those newspaper 
men! They had done such yeoman's service that 
we were obliged to let them have their own way at 
the last. You see, both men who helped us were 
on the staff of the News. It was too good a chance 
to triumph over their rivals. So they had every- 
thing ready. Bulletin boards were out, and extras 
were being prepared, almost before the women got 
to the prison or I reached my home with Bethany. I 
took her there to change her clothes, but found when 
we got to the door that I had forgotten to get the 
suit case from the wicked women, so we wheeled 
about and came here. By that time the news had 
gone by word of mouth just like wildfire. I don't 
know when I have seen the city so excited, unless it 
was when we had our last presidential election. I 


The Explanation Continued 295 

am proud of the way my fellow citizens are stand- 
ing by the rights of children.” 

She stopped, fanned herself with a newspaper, 
and they all gazed silently at her. 

They were waiting for the Judge to speak. “My 
dear young lady,” he said, in a moved voice, “you 
are reaping what you have sowed. Nearly five 
years ago you began your cry for the children. 
Day after day you have unweariedly gone on with 
your good work. This demonstration to-day was 
more for you than for me.” 

“Dear Judge,” she said, extending a hand and 
speaking with exquisite gentleness, “can we not 
say that youth and advancing age are united in this ? 
Together they stand, divided they fall.” 

She rose as she spoke, but the Judge made a 
gesture to detain her. “It only remains for me to 
thank you most heartily for what you have done for 
me. We will go over the thing more in detail at 
some future day. I must be very largely in your 
debt, pecuniarily. As for the moral aspect of the 
case, my mind seems to falter and stagger when I 
think of it. There seems to be an awful cloud over- 
shadowing me — a cloud of possibilities — of prob- 
abilities. Suppose you had not rescued Bethany, 
what would have been her fate?” 

The Judge’s voice broke. He was overcome by 
emotion. “I want to see the cat man,” he said at 
last, weakly. “He is at the root of this deliverance.” 

There was nothing amusing about his remark, 
but they all broke out laughing. There had been 
a great strain on their nerves during the past few 
hours. 


Princess Sukey 


296 

Titus and Dallas roared until they woke up Beth- 
any, who sleepily rubbed her eyes and looked about 
her. Mrs. Everest laughed so heartily that at last 
she began to cry. 

“Come,” said her husband, inexorably, and he 
checked his own amusement. “Come now, old girl. 
You can’t be domestic, motherly, and grandmotherly 
to a whole city without your nerves going on strike 
occasionally. You come home and play with your 
baby and Cracker. He’s cutting up Jack.” 

Berty weakly wiped her eyes. When there was 
work to be done she regained her self-control. 

“What is he doing?” she asked. 

“Teasing the life out of Daisy and the cook. They 
locked him in his room and telephoned to me at the 
iron works.” 

“Good-bye, dear Judge,” said Berty, hastily. “I’ll 
see you soon again,” and she fairly ran from the 
room. 

“Tom,” she said to her husband on their way 
home, “human nature is a queer thing, isn’t it?” 

“Mighty queer, Berty.” 

“Do you know, when I first began my story of 
the Bethany affair the dear old Judge was inclined 
to stand off and criticize.” 

“That was the man of him. He would like to 
have been consulted and to have engineered the 
affair.” 

“In anticipating these revelations I really sup- 
posed that he would fall on my neck when I told 
him what we had done,” continued Berty, thought- 
fully. 

“And you say he didn’t — just stood back and 


The Explanation Continued 


297 

criticised? How funny," and Tom laughed irre- 
pressibly. 

“But he changed," pursued Berty, earnestly. “It 
seemed to come over him that a dreadful fate might 
have been poor Bethany's if we had not rescued 
her." 

“Of course he changed — would have been a 
donkey if he hadn't," said Tom, disrespectfully. 
“You're all right, Berty — always were and always 
will be." 

“And so are you, Tom," she responded, gener- 
ously. 

“However, speaking of Bethany," he went on, 
“no dreadful fate would have overtaken her for a 
while. Suppose the women had made off with her. 
They would have taken mighty good care of her 
till the ransom business was settled." 

Berty shuddered. “Suppose no ransom had been 
given ?" 

“O, I fancy Bethany, being a nice child, would 
make friends and settle down to business. She 
would adapt herself to a changed environment. 
She would make a pretty little thief." 

“Tom, don’t jest on such a subject," said Berty, 
passionately. Then she went on in a musing tone, 
“Since this affair began I have thought so much 
of another kidnaping case that Barry told me 
about." 

“O, that New York affair?" 

“Yes — the only son of a widow. O, Tom, sup- 
pose our baby were taken from us?" 

“Are you pining to be left childless and a wid- 
ow?” he asked, pointedly. 


Princess Sukey 


298 

“Tom, don’t. You have that hopeless national 
habit of jesting upon every subject. Do be serious. 
I assure you I dream of that widow.” 

“Why doesn’t she get her boy back?” 

“She can’t raise the money. She hasn’t got it. 
Barry thinks the Smalley gang is in the affair. I 
wonder whether these women would know anything 
about it?” 

“Possibly; ask them.” 

“I will; and Tom, as soon as we get home tele- 
phone to the fish market to have a boat sent for 
Barry. I want him to come up this evening and 
talk over this affair.” 


CHAPTER XXV 
Visitors for the Judge 

Two weeks later Berty and her boy were spend- 
ing the day at the Judge’s. She arrived early in 
the morning. 

“Dear Judge,” she said, bundling out of a cab 
with various packages and looking up at him as he 
stood on his front doorstep throwing crumbs to the 
sparrows, “dear Judge, I have come to spend the 
blessed, livelong day with you.” 

“I am delighted,” he said, gallantly, and throw- 
ing away his bread he hurried down the steps and 
took the baby from her.” 

“Yesterday,” she went on, “I was half distracted 
with calls upon me. ‘Tom/ I said to my husband, 
‘if I’m spared till to-morrow morning I am going 
to take baby and hide for a day. You get up early 
in the morning and go to your mother’s for break- 
fast, lunch, and dinner. I am going to close the 
house and give Daisy and the cook a holiday.’ ” 

“And what did your husband say?” inquired the 
Judge, as he held open the door for her. “O, my 
dear lady — ” 

“What is it ?” asked Berty, anxiously. 

“This baby — he is putting something in my ear.” 

“Gravel,” said his mother, as she stood on tiptoe 
and examined the side of the Judge’s head. He had 
his hands full when we started. He is the most 


Princess Sukey 


3 °° 

mischievous baby ever born. You would better give 
him to me. You take the packages, and I will take 
him.” 

“No, no ; he is too heavy for you to carry.” 

“Have you had breakfast?” inquired Berty, as 
the Judge went toward the dining room. 

“No, not yet. I was just waiting for the chil- 
dren.” 

“Here they come,” said Berty, looking up the 
stairway. “Good-morning, lammies.” 

Bethany and the boys pressed about Berty. They 
all loved her, and the baby was a great attraction 
to them. He pulled out a wisp of Bethany’s hair, 
untied Dallas’s necktie, and slapped Titus, all in the 
compass of a minute, but without the slightest re- 
sentment they politely crowded each other in endeav- 
oring to get a seat near him during prayer time. 

His behavior during the reading of a psalm was 
so disgraceful that his mother was obliged to carry 
him out of the room. Chuckling gayly, and not at 
all abashed, he came back in time for breakfast. 

His exploits at the table, especially with a cream 
jug and his mother’s plate of mush, became so exas- 
perating that at last she put him on the floor with a 
crust of bread. 

He was not hungry, having breakfasted earlier, 
so, taking his crust, he crawled under the table and 
polished the children’s shoes with it. In huge 
delight Bethany and the boys, with little explosive 
bursts of laughter, submitted to his manipulations, 
while his mother talked to the Judge. 

“Can you love your work and yet get tired of it?” 
she was inquiring searchingly of her older friend. 


30i 


Visitors for the Judge 

The Judge shook his head, not negatively, but in 
a thoughtful manner. “O, so tired, my dear friend, 
especially when the flesh grows weak.” 

“ ‘The ghost is willing, but the meat is weak/ 
a Frenchman once said,” continued Berty, with a 
laugh. “Well, Judge, yesterday I thought I would 
go crazy. They began before I was out x>f bed. 
‘Mrs. Everest/ said Daisy at my door, ‘the man at 
the Babies’ Supply Depot says an accident has hap- 
pened to the fresh-milk van. The cans are upset. 
What shall he do?’ ‘Do/ I said, ‘the foolish man! 
Why, do the best he can. There are other cows. 
Let him ransack the town for fresh milk. Tele- 
phone to the suburban places. There is milk some- 
where. We’ve got to have it for the River Street 
babies. Why does he waste time by coming to me ? 
I put him there; let him look after his business. 
If he doesn’t I’ll discharge him.’ ” 

“Do have some of this Cloverdale honey,” said 
the Judge, “it is delicious.” 

“Now, Judge, you think I want sweetening,” she 
said, with a mischievous twinkling of her black 
eyes, “but you’ve got to hear all my troubles. Let 
me see, what was the next thing? O, yes, I know 
— and this, too, before I was out of bed. Daisy 
calls through the door, ‘Mrs. Everest, the footman 
from Miss Sally Draylittle’s is here. He says that 
his lady says that the Angora cat she bought from 
your cat farm is going round with its leg hanging- 
loose. What shall she do?’ ” 

Dallas, who was listening to Berty, began to 
laugh. 

“I don’t wonder you laugh/’ said Berty, indig- 


Princess Sukey 


302 

nantly. “Did you ever hear of such a helpless 
woman trying to run an establishment? Tell the 
footman to tell Miss Draylittle to send for a good 
veterinary. The cat has probably broken her leg.’ 
Then let me see, what came next? I’ve got to tell 
you quickly while I’m cross about it, for when I get 
cool I shall be ashamed of myself for telling my 
trials, even to such dear friends as you all are.” 

“You in your work are hampered by inefficient 
persons in places of trust,” said the Judge, philo- 
sophically. 

“That’s it in a nutshell,” said Berty. “Why, the 
average person doesn’t seem to think. My next 
call was to go to see a sick woman. She wasn’t 
sick; she was troubled and uneasy. Her husband 
had left home in a temper the night before and 
hadn’t come back. She frightened me and I fright- 
ened her. She poured out her woes to me, and I 
said, T don’t blame him. If I were your husband 
I wouldn’t come back for a week.’ The poor crea- 
ture stared at me. ‘Why, look about you,’ I said. 
‘Look at this dirty room, this filthy room. How 
could a man sit down in it with self-respect. Stop 
your crying and clean it.’ And do you know, Judge, 
I couldn’t make her see it was dirty. I sent for two 
men and had her moved bag and baggage into two 
clean rooms in that house you were good enough 
to buy for my poor people ; and now the question is, 
will she have sense enough to keep it clean ?” 

“Reform is losing some of its rosy hues to you,” 
the Judge observed, sententiously. 

Berty laughed. “Please give me some more 
honey, and just you try criticising River Street. 


Visitors for the Judge 303 

Then you will find out where baby gets his temper. 
I scold those people frightfully, but I love them. 
Titus, are you coming to live on River Street with 
me when you get to be a man?” and she turned to 
the boy. 

“No, but perhaps I can help you,” he said, mod- 
estly. “I was thinking that on that stock farm 
grandfather is going to let me have there will be 
plenty of room for some cottages for poor sick folks, 
and I would like to have some of the children out 
every day.” 

“You dear,” she said, enthusiastically; then as 
he began an animated conversation with Titus on 
the subject of farming she remarked in a low voice 
to the Judge, “Why, that boy has stopped stam- 
mering, hasn’t he?” 

The Judge nodded. “I will tell you about it pres- 
ently.” 

When the two boys and the little girl were ex- 
cused from the table, and got up to go to school, 
there were simultaneous squeals of laughter from 
them. Their shoes were all slipping off their feet. 

“It’s that cute little baby,” observed Bethany, 
“he’s untied all our shoes.” 

“Mine are not only untied, but off my feet,” said 
Berty, unconcernedly. “Perhaps Higby will be 
good enough to find them.” 

The old man, who was grinning with delight 
over the baby’s antics, found one in the coal hod. 
The other was discovered an hour later out in the 
yard, where it had been carried by Bylow the dog, 
he having probably picked it up in the back hall, 
where it had been thrown by Tom, junior. 


304 


Princess Sukey 


“Why, I believe,” said the Judge, shuffling his 
feet about, “that the little rascal has untied my laces. 
Dallas, just look before you leave the room. I 
dislike fussing with my feet after I am fully 
dressed.” 

Dallas went down on his knees, neatly fastened 
the Judge’s laces, and put his feet on a stool where 
they would be slightly out of baby’s way. 

“Who is going to take Bethany to school this 
morning?” asked the Judge. 

“It’s my turn,” replied Titus. 

“Good-bye, Daddy Grandpa,” said the little girl, 
coming to kiss him. 

“Good-bye,” he said, “mind and wait for Jennie 
to come and bring you home. Don’t leave Mrs. 
Hume’s alone.” 

“No, dear Daddy Grandpa.” Then she went on, 
anxiously, “Will the baby be here when Bethany 
comes home?” 

“I hope so,” said the Judge, politely. 

“Yes, he will,” said Berty, “that dreadful baby 
will be here for luncheon, and for dinner, too, if he 
is not turned out before then.” 

The Judge smiled. “He won’t be. I have a fel- 
low-feeling for that baby. Many a time I have 
heard my dear departed mother say that I was one 
of the worst children she ever saw.” 

“O, Judge,” said Berty, vivaciously, “is that true? 
Can it be that there is hope for my baby of becom- 
ing a man like you ?” 

“Tut! tut! he will be a far better one.” 

“Judge, will you take him and bring him up?” 

The Judge tried to repress a shudder, but could 


305 


Visitors for the Judge 

not. He liked Berty’s baby, and had great patience 
with him as an occasional visitor, but as steady com- 
pany — “No,” he said, thoughtfully, “that baby needs 
a mother.” 

“So he does,” said Berty, catching him up in her 
arms, “mother’s great fat lump of flesh with a 
naughty little mind inside. Now, Judge, what are 
you going to do this morning?” 

“I am going to entertain you,” he said, politely. 

“No, no, I only stay on condition that I don’t 
interfere with your regular occupations. Baby and 
I can amuse ourselves.” 

“I assure you that I would rather stay with you 
than do anything else,” said the Judge. 

“Well,” she returned, “you are a truthful man, 
and I believe you. Will you take me to see the 
pigeons first thing? But what shall we do with 
baby?” 

“Higby,” said the Judge, “you are fond of chil- 
dren. You amuse him.” 

The old man deliberately came forward and re- 
ceived the crowing baby in his arms. 

Young Tom was too much accustomed to 
strangers to object, and at once he was fascinated 
by Higby’s teeth, which were rather large and 
curiously shaped. Insinuating all his pink fingers in 
the man’s mouth, to tried to take them out. They 
would not come. 

“If you don’t object to that, Higby,” said Mrs. 
Everest, “it is a sure way to amuse him.” 

Higby gurgled a reply in the affirmative, and 
Berty went away with the Judge. 

“O, the lovely creatures,” she exclaimed, when 


Princess Sukey 


306 

a few minutes later they entered the pigeon loft, 
“and how tame they are !” 

The pigeons were flying all over the Judge, light- 
ing on his head, his shoulders, his arms, and gently 
tapping him with their beaks. 

“They are becoming tamer every day,” he said. 
“It is wonderful what kind treatment will do in de- 
veloping the intelligence of the lower order of 
creation.” 

“I suppose Titus pets these birds very much.” 

“O, yes, he and Bethany are indefatigable. I 
watched him at first, for I thought he might neglect 
them, but he does not.” 

“I used to keep pigeons,” said Berty, wistfully. 
“I was very fond of them.” 

“I am sure Titus would give you a pair or two, 
if you wish to start again. He won’t let everybody 
have them, but he would be sure of your devotion 
to them.” 

“I should love to have some,” she said, enthusias- 
tically. “By the way, Judge, tell me about his 
stammering. Is he really cured?” 

“You noticed that he spoke slowly.” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“He is trying to cure himself, really trying hard 
now. He got a shock the other day that started him 
in the right direction. It was after Airy Tingsby’s 
last visit here. Just as soon as she went away I 
called him to me. ‘Titus,’ I said, ‘did you notice 
that Airy stammered quite often during dinner, and 
in the evening?’ 

“ ‘Yes,’ he said, reluctantly, ‘he had/ 

“ ‘Do you know,’ I said, ‘that that little girl has 


Visitors for the Judge 307 

set up a lofty ideal for herself. She wishes to be 
a perfect lady.’ 

“Titus said he knew that. 

“ ‘And you/ I said, ‘are going to be a stumbling- 
block. So anxious is she to imitate the members of 
this family in every particular that she is going to 
copy our bad as well as our good qualities. Now, 
don’t you think you ought to endeavor to shake off 
this habit of stammering ?’ 

“Titus asked me if I thought she was imitating 
him purposely. 

“ ‘Do you think so yourself ?’ I asked. 

“He gave me to understand that he did not, that 
she was so consumed by a burning, intense desire to 
improve that she unconsciously caught up every- 
thing he said, absorbed all his words, and his 
mannerisms with them. 

“I did not need to say anything further. The boy 
was perfectly upset over the affair, so much so that 
I wondered. He was ashamed of standing in the 
way of a girl — and such a fragile piece of ambition 
as Airy. So he set himself resolutely to conquer his 
failing, and you see he is making good progress. He 
slips sometimes, but not often.” 

“Titus is a noble boy,” said Berty, warmly. “He 
is going to make a fine man.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 
The Only Son of a Widow 

The Judge looked gratified by Berty’s praise of 
Titus; then, leading the way to the nest boxes, he 
pointed to some young pigeons to her. 

“O, the darling things!” exclaimed Berty, look- 
ing in at the downy creatures, “and all in twos. Do 
they always have two young ones at a time? My 
pigeons never nested.” 

“Usually, sometimes only one. Of course, these 
pigeons are not allowed to lay during the cold 
weather. They are just beginning, now that winter 
is thinking of yielding to spring.” 

“Just look at them trying to hiss at me, Judge. 
Do they know that I am a stranger ?” 

“Certainly — try these homers.” 

Berty put her slim hand in between two young 
homers, who promptly beat it with their unfledged 
wings. 

“Naughty little squabs,” said Berty, caressingly. 
“I suppose Titus will fly these homers when they 
grow up. Are they workers?” 

“Yes, the parents have a record of five hundred 
miles, but they were not bred in this loft, so he can’t 
let them out. These young ones would come back.” 

“Training homing pigeons must be great sport,” 
said Berty, enthusiastically. 

“It is. Even Dallas is interested in that. He 
has been reading that country doctors use homing 


The Only Son of a Widow 309 

pigeons extensively in their practice, and he may 
have to start in the country. By the way, speaking 
of doctors, some one said Mafferty is ill ; is he ?” 

“Yes, but only with a cold ; nothing serious. His 
memories of the last few weeks keep him cheerful.” 

“I suppose he is as much elated as ever ?” 

“More so — he is the proudest man in Riverport,” 
and Berty laid a hand on an elusive fantail and 
clasped her gently. “No one could be more de- 
lighted at the turn affairs took with regard to the 
kidnapers. His well-laid plans succeeded.” 

“No credit was given him by the press,” remarked 
the Judge. “No reporters interviewed him, but per- 
haps he does not care for that sort of thing.” 

“Not at all. He shuns notoriety. All the people 
that he cared about gave him the glory. You, in 
going out to his island, and wringing his hand, con- 
ferred a tremendous honor upon him. You and the 
chief of police are his heroes, and at police head- 
quarters he stands very high, and is correspondingly 
set up by it.” 

“And your good opinion,” said the Judge, point- 
edly; “he knows he has that.” 

Berty smiled. “Amusing to retail, he does not 
value my praise half as much as he does yours, or 
any man's. He is sure of me. I befriended him 
when he was friendless, and he thinks I would like 
him no matter what he did. He likes me to ap- 
prove; but still, nothing I could say or do would 
come up to that handshake of yours.” 

“Remember your promise to let me know if there 
is anything I can do for him.” 

“I will. Just now he is well enough as he is.” 


3 IQ 


Princess Sukey 


“By the way, are you still going to see those un- 
fortunate women?” 

“O, yes, every day I have a dreadful feeling 
about them. I in one way am responsible for their 
captivity. I vowed that I would do all I could to 
mitigate it. The first few days, as I told you when 
we last met, they would have nothing to say to me. 
Then they began to thaw slightly. Little by little 
they seemed to understand that I had their good at 
heart.” 

“Did you say anything to them about the other 
kidnaping case?” 

“Yes, but not until three days ago. I told them 
that their trial would soon come off ; that if they 
were to give any information about the stolen child 
it might influence public opinion in their favor. I 
could get nothing out of them. They flatly denied 
all knowledge of the missing boy, but at the very 
first instant of my mentioning the affair I caught 
a gleam of intelligence in the eye of one of them. 
She knew something about it. So what do you 
think I did, dear Judge?” 

The Judge pushed away a pouter that was puffing 
and swelling out on his shoulder. “Well,” he said, 
mischievously, “your actions are sometimes unex- 
pected.” 

She laughed gayly. “To be true to my reputa- 
tion, they were in this case. I telegraphed to New 
York to the little widow. I said, ‘Come to me, and 
possibly I may give you news of your boy/ The 
poor little woman actually flew here. I wish you 
could have seen her, Judge. Such a teary, weary, 
eerie sort of a widow. All big eyes and veil, and so 


The Only Son of a Widow 31 i 

consumed with sorrow, which one could not wonder 
at.” 

“Did you take her to the jail?” 

“I did. I confronted her with those two young 
women. I had them both brought into the same 
room. I made no explanation, either to them or to 
the widow, whose name is Mrs. Tralee. When the 
two women, or girls — for neither of them is much 
over twenty — came in I abruptly pointed to them, 
and said to Mrs. Tralee, ‘Those girls can tell you 
where to get information about your lost boy.’ 

“It was pitiful to see that little widow’s face, 
Judge. Just imagine her — alone in the world, one 
pet boy, and he snatched from her. She gave me 
one look, one terrible look, as if to say, ‘Are you 
deceiving me ?’ I shook my head solemnly. Those 
girls either knew where her boy was or could tell us 
who did know. I would have staked my life on it. 

“Mrs. Tralee wasted no time in preliminaries. 
She fell right on her knees before them. She, a rich 
woman, cultured and refined and exquisitely dressed, 
took those degraded creatures in her outstretched 
arms, she pleaded with them as for her soul’s salva- 
tion. 

“It was dreadful, Judge. I never heard any- 
thing more affecting in my life. I just stood and 
cried like a baby, and I heard a sniffing behind the 
door where the jailer stood, and when we came out 
I noticed his eyes were all red. 

“At first the two girls tried to laugh it off. They 
looked sheepishly at each other, but it was no laugh- 
ing matter. Despite themselves, and hardened as 
they undoubtedly are, something womanly arose in 


312 


Princess Sukey 


them, something responded to that poor little wom- 
an’s cries and groans. 

“As I said before, it was terrible. It gave me a 
kind of exquisite pain to listen to Mrs. Tralee. She 
assured the girls that she was telling the truth in the 
sight of her Maker when she stated that the ransom 
demanded for her son was one she could not pay. 
The money left to her by her husband was not in 
her sole control. She would sacrifice every cent she 
herself owned, but she absolutely could not touch 
the fortune left in trust for her son. 

“The two girls looked at each other. They were 
getting uneasy and shaky. One whispered some- 
thing, the other responded, then they tried to with- 
draw their dresses from Mrs. Tralee’s frantic grasp. 
At last one of them, with a kind of desperate look, 
bent over and said, ‘Go to this address in New York 
— we can’t, and shan’t tell you a word more,’ and 
she rattled off something in Mrs. Tralee’s ears. 

“Then, without waiting for her thanks, they 
pulled themselves away and ran to the door, and the 
jailer took them to their cells. 

“Mrs. Tralee took my head between her hands. 
She gave me such a look, Judge — such a look from 
those big eyes of hers. There was no need of 
speech. Then she fairly flew to the railway station, 
and took a special train for New York ; and I haven’t 
heard a word from her since.” 

“How long ago did you say that was ?” 

“Three days. I thought she would telegraph me. 
I hope that those girls weren’t deceiving her. I spoke 
to them about it yesterday when I took them some 
things to eat, and they were utterly unresponsive.” 


The Only Son of a Widow 313 

“I imagine from what you have told me of this 
affair,” said the Judge, shrewdly, “that they have 
not misled that bereaved woman. You will hear 
from her later. She is probably in communication 
with the child-stealers; quite likely, agreeing upon 
some concession — very illegal, but very easily under- 
stood. But come, these pigeons are getting to be 
too aggressive. Let us go out and see the rest of 
the live stock. I know you like horses.” 

“Love them,” said Berty, intensely, “and I want 
to see the cow, too. Brick said you had a new one. 
By the way, how is the boy getting on?” 

“Well, I don't know that the phrase ‘getting on’ 
applies to Brick,” observed the Judge, cheerfully. 
“It is rather a kind of backward and forward mo- 
tion that keeps him in about the same place. I know 
I have felt it my duty to raise Roblee’s wages in 
order to enable him to bear up under this new species 
of trial.” 

“The Lord will reward you, Judge,” said Berty, 
heartily. 

“I take no credit to myself, not a particle,” said 
the Judge. “I come in contact with him but little. 
He regards Titus as his special oppressor. Look 
up there, Mrs. Everest.” 

Berty raised her eyes. The Judge was standing 
in the open door of the stable pointing toward the 
house. “Can you see two little gray balls of down 
up at the top of that old elm ?” 

“No, sir, I can’t.” 

“Look again — just where the topmost branches 
extend under the gutter at the roof’s edge.” 

“O, yes, I do see something — those are surely not 


314 Princess Sukey 

Dallas’s little owls that Bethany told me about the 
other day?” 

“Yes, they sit there asleep all day. At night they 
fly about. What did Bethany tell you about them?” 

“After I rescued her from those women she 
seemed greatly relieved, and confided to me a slight 
misgiving she had had. Suppose they had taken her 
to New York, and had not been able to find Daddy 
Grandpa. ‘I tell you, Mrs. Everest, what Bethany 
would do,’ she said, sweetly, to me. ‘Bethany would 
open her window at night and call ’Frisco and 
’Mento, Dallas’s two little owls that fly in the dark, 
and she would say, “Go home quickly and tell Daddy 
Grandpa that Bethany wants him.” ’ ” 

The Judge was listening intently. “How curious 
is the working of a child’s mind !” he said. “In that 
statement she confesses a belief that I was here all 
the time, that I had not gone to New York. She 
must have had an intuitive distrust of those 
women.” 

“I believe she had,” said Berty, decidedly. “It 
was just her sweet, yielding nature that made her 
go with them.” 

“She is not always sweet and yielding. You 
should see her when Airy Tingsby is about.” 

“I know she does not like Airy,” said Berty, in an 
amused voice, “but Airy likes her.” 

The Judge looked grave. “Bethany is trying to 
overcome her dislike. She has Airy here a good 
deal lately.” 

“And you have put Airy in Miss Featherby’s 
school, I hear,” said Berty, with slight curiosity. 

The Judge smiled. “Yes, you know Dallas un- 


The Only Son of a Widow 315 

dertook to instruct her. He mystified me greatly, 
for I knew he did not mind doing it, and yet he 
suddenly became loath to go out to the Tingsby cot- 
tage to give Airy her lessons.” 

“Of course, now, you understand that that was 
in consequence of his instructions from us, to keep 
about the house as much as possible.” 

“Yes, now, I understand, but then I did not. 
However, I reasoned the matter out with myself. 
Airy would be better under a woman’s care, so I 
called on Miss Featherby. I had some scruples 
about putting Airy in a boarding school.” 

“And such a fashionable one,” murmured Berty. 

“But Miss Featherby is such a sensible, such a 
very sensible person,” continued the Judge, “that 
I very much wished Airy to be under her care.” 

“You really like the poor little mortal, Judge, I 
do believe,” exclaimed Berty, irrepressibly. 

The Judge looked cautiously over his shoulder 
as if he were afraid the horses and the cow might be 
eavesdropping. 

“I do not like her, I do not like her,” he said, 
seriously. 

Berty burst into a merry peal of laughter. “No 
one does, yet. Why is it she makes us all stand 
round ?” 

“I don’t like her,” repeated the Judge, cautiously, 
“and yet I find myself in the presence of a very 
strong young personality when I am with her. That 
strength will be expended in some way. If I can 
train it, perhaps I ought to.” 

“She is very clever, very peculiar, and very fas- 
cinating,” said Berty, succinctly. “She could twist 


Princess Sukey 


3 i6 

me round her little finger if she wished to, but she 
doesn’t. Her ideals are not mine.” 

“She has affection, too,” said the Judge, warmly. 
“She came rushing in the morning after Bethany’s 
attempted capture by those women and alarmed me 
by her demonstrations of anger and alarm.” 

“I suppose she does not come here very much now 
that she is at Miss Featherby’s.” 

“She comes whenever she is allowed to go out. 
If it is to go downtown with a teacher she takes us 
in on her way.” 

Berty laughed again. “You will have to adopt 
her too, Judge; that is, if you have no scruples about 
lifting her out of her sphere.” 

“I have scruples, but what am I to do? Is not 
ambition a good thing? Mrs. Tingsby does not 
want to rise, Airy does. I have talked very seriously 
to the child. I have explained to her that her wild 
ambition is going to create a gulf between her and 
her family. She says it won’t.” 

“It will,” remarked Berty, decidedly. 

“Well, my course is clear,” said the Judge. “I 
feel it. The spectacle of that little sick creature sit- 
ting up at night, studying in a cheerless room, 
haunted me. I have put her where she is warm and 
comfortable, where her very environment is enough 
to cheer and uplift her.” 

“How does she get on with the other girls?” 

The Judge smiled. “Peculiarly. I fancied that 
she would have a hard time with them on account 
of her different social station. However, I said to 
her, ‘No stories, Airy. Tell the truth about your- 
self.’ ” 


The Only Son of a Widow 317 

“And did she?” 

“She did,” said the Judge, laconically. Then, after 
a time, he laughed suddenly and heartily. “The 
truth in her case so far transcended the schoolgirls’ 
anticipations or realizations that they looked upon it 
as the wildest absurdity.” 

Berty seemed puzzled. 

The Judge repressed his amusement, and looking 
down at her in his fatherly, benevolent way said, 
“Imagine to yourself, my dear Mrs. Everest, a 
schoolroom full of girls, all interested in the new- 
comer — I have this straight from Airy — she, poor 
child, sitting grim and composed, ready for any- 
thing. Finally, one girl plucks up courage enough 
to ask Airy what her name is, where she has lived, 
how many servants her mother kept, what her 
father’s business is, what church she goes to, how 
much money she has in the bank, how many silk 
dresses her mother owns, and so on.” 

Berty laughed gleefully. “I know them — that is 
schoolgirls — they are so delightfully silly. What 
did Airy say?” 

“The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the 
truth.” 

“And the girls were staggered, I suppose,” chuck- 
led Berty. 

“Staggered and confounded. Then Airy says they 
looked her over. Having foreseen something of 
this, in a dim and masculine way, I had taken care 
to provide my protegee with a carefully selected 
wardrobe. Her clothes were not showy, but they 
were what you women call elegant. I suppose you 
will think it the foolish whim of an old man when 


Princess Sukey 


318 

I tell you that I myself interviewed the dressmaker 
who fitted Airy out. I told her to line her little 
garments with the best of satin.” 

Berty leaned against the stable doorway and 
laughed long and irrepressibly. “Well, Judge, you 
are the greatest man — ” 

“And I gave her a gold watch,” he went on, with 
twinkling eyes — “a very little one, but very exqui- 
site — and a chain of wonderful workmanship.” 

“You dear man!” exclaimed Berty, impulsively. 
“You did all this not to encourage vanity, but to 
spare a child’s feelings.” 

“Well,” said the Judge, modestly, “I did not plan 
to deceive Airy’s schoolmates, but the little witches 
had heard of my other protegee, Bethany, and her 
rich grandfather, so Airy says they received her 
truthful account of herself as the most absurd kind 
of fairy tale. They shouted with laughter over her 
laconic description of the penury to which she had 
been accustomed. Then she was received into the 
inner circle as a kind of mystery. She says that the 
girls think her a foreigner, on account of her dark 
complexion, and this opinion is heightened by her 
poor English. The most accredited rumor is that 
she is an Italian princess, stolen from a magnificent 
castle by gypsies.” 

Berty was convulsed with amusement. “And 
how does Airy take all this ?” 

“Philosophically,” laughed the Judge. “Really 
she is an astonishing girl. Details don’t concern her 
as much as they do most people. She grasps the 
whole. Dress and environment are secondary 
things with her, things not to be disregarded, but 


The Only Son of a Widow 319 

not to be overestimated. The primary thing is to 
get an education. Then she wishes to earn money, 
and repay me for what I have done for her, and also 
to support her family — a heavy burden for such 
young shoulders.” 

“I wonder what she is going to be when she 
grows up?” remarked Berty, meditatively. 

“Now that brings me to something that I wish to 
ask your advice about,” said the Judge. “Ever since 
the attempt was made to steal Bethany from us I 
have been thinking that I need some young person 
to look after my children — particularly the two little 
girls.” 

“Are you counting Airy in the family?” said 
Berty, significantly. “I thought she would end by 
establishing herself here.” 

“How can one defeat such an ingenious child?” 
responded the Judge, frankly. “She began by call- 
ing, then dropping in at mealtimes. Really, she 
spent the most of her time here before she went to 
Miss Featherby’s, and I know that when holidays 
come we shall have her altogether.” 

“In which case you will need a lady housekeeper,” 
said Berty, promptly, “or Airy will rule you all. 
Now I know just the person for you, Judge.” 

“Who is it?” he inquired, with interest. 

“My friend Nancy Armitage Steele.” 

“You don’t mean little Nancy, the daughter of the 
late General Armitage?” 

“The same, Judge; but she is a tall young mar- 
ried woman now, and, unfortunately, a widow.” 

“What! That child married!” 

“Child — she is twenty-five years old.” 


320 


Princess Sukey 


“How time flies!” said the Judge, musingly. “It 
seems only the other day that the General and I 
were lads in school. But how is it that his daughter 
needs to support herself.” 

“Her husband’s health failed, then after a long 
illness he died. He left Nancy nothing and her 
father had left her nothing, so she had to go to 
work.” 

“Poor Armitage — I knew that he made some bad 
investments, but I thought he could leave his child 
a competency. However, I have rather lost sight of 
the family.” 

“Yes, it is some time since they left here. Now, 
Judge, don’t you think Mrs. Nancy would preside 
charmingly over your household ? She is the sweet- 
est girl.” 

“I do, indeed,” said the Judge, heartily, “if she 
would not be too much of a fine lady to have a moth- 
erly or sisterly care of the children. You see, Mrs. 
Blodgett is getting old, and her department is the 
housekeeping. I want the next best thing to a 
mother for those little girls.” 

“Nancy is at present mothering two hundred and 
fifty children in an orphan asylum,” said Berty, 
warmly, “and mothering them so well that the board 
of managers has offered to increase her salary ever 
so much if she will stay. But the responsibility is 
too much for her. She is a great worker, but she 
is not very strong. Next week she is coming to 
visit me. I know of several positions that have 
been offered her, but I don’t believe she has any- 
thing in view that would suit her as well as this one 
with her father’s old friend.” 


The Only Son of a Widow 321 

“I shall be obliged if you will arrange an inter- 
view with her for me,” said the Judge, “but don’t 
say anything decisive. Twenty-five does not seem 
very young to you, but a girl of that age appears 
like a child to me, and I don’t want to adopt any 
more children.” 

“You used not to be afraid,” replied Berty, smil- 
ingly. “Nancy has an old head on her young shoul- 
ders.” 

“Mrs. Everest,” said the Judge, suddenly, “I am 
keeping you in a draught. Let us step back here 
and see the horses.” 

Berty went with him ; then, a sudden thought of 
the baby coming over her, she hurried the Judge 
into the house. 

Baby had been good — a perfect angel, and his 
proud young mother took him upstairs, where he 
fell asleep in the Judge’s study. 

The Judge himself went downtown, and the tired 
Berty, putting down her head on the sofa beside 
young Tom, fell asleep, and did not wake till Beth- 
any and the Judge came home for luncheon. 

After lunch there was a long drive with the 
Judge. Baby again was good, but upon coming 
back to the avenue he distinguished himself. Be- 
fore dinner was announced he had successively worn 
out the Judge, his mother, Dallas, Titus, and Beth- 
any. He had beaten Higby with a hearthbrush, 
pulled out two of Sukey’s tail feathers and sent her 
shrieking out to the balcony, upset a bottle of ink 
on the handsome study carpet, torn leaves out of a 
valuable Shakespeare that he snatched from the 
table, and generally conducted himself with such 


Princess Sukey 


322 

shameless impropriety that his young mother at 
last slapped his hands. 

He promptly whipped hers. “Never mind, dear 
Judge,” she said, with an imploring glance at him. 
“After dinner you will be rid of this nightmare.” 

The Judge smiled cheerfully. “I assure you I 
have not suffered. If you worry I shall suffer, so 
please forgive your baby. He is full of animal 
spirits.” 

She kissed the little hands that she was holding, 
then looked up as Jennie uttered her name. 

The modest, pretty young maid stood in the door- 
way and gazed alternatively at the Judge and at 
Berty. 

“There’s a lady downstairs,” she said, doubtfully. 
“She asked if Judge Sancroft lived here. She said 
she must see Mrs. Everest. It was something very 
special. Her name is Mrs. Tralee, and she has a 
little boy with her.” 

Berty gave a joyful cry. “O, Judge, dear Judge, 
she has got her boy. Come downstairs with me. 
Jennie, look after the baby — I can’t take him down 
in the parlor; he would demolish every bit of bric- 
a-brac there. Come, dear Judge,” and seizing his 
hand she drew him from the room. 

A little, a very little woman stood in the middle of 
the large parlor. The Judge gazed intently at her. 
Berty had spoken truly when she had said that Mrs. 
Tralee was mostly eyes and veil — and what eyes! 

The Judge stepped back. He felt himself an in- 
truder. This was no common scene, and there was 
no formal introduction. The two women stood for 
an instant looking at the little boy who accompanied 


The Only Son of a Widow 323 

the lady. Then they fell on each other’s necks — 
that is, Berty and the little widow. 

There was a sound of crying and kissing, and the 
Judge quietly turned and was about to withdraw 
when Berty called to him. 

“O, Judge, Judge,” she said, “this is the boy — 
the lost boy. O, my dear Mrs. Tralee, where did 
you get him. Tell me about it.” 

The strange lady was gazing in rapt admiration 
at Berty, who had run to the little lad and was hold- 
ing his hand and earnestly looking into his eyes. 

Mrs. Tralee turned to the Judge. “Sir,” she said, 
simply, “the only son of a widow — they stole him 
from me. But this dear girl found him, and I bought 
him. I bought back my precious child. Can you 
wonder that I worship her?” 

As she spoke she pointed to Berty. Her tone was 
animated, even passionate, and the Judge nodded 
comprehendingly. 

“O, I am so tired,” said Mrs. Tralee, suddenly 
dropping into a chair. “For weeks I have scarcely 
slept for grief, and now I cannot sleep for joy.” 

Berty turned round suddenly. “You are coming 
right home with me,” she said, “and I am going to 
put you in a quiet room where you can rest, and I 
will watch your boy every minute while you sleep. 
Dear Judge, may we have a carriage?” 

Mrs. Tralee sat gazing at Berty in mute acqui- 
escence. The expression in her eyes was almost 
painful, and the Judge averted his head. “How 
women suffer!” he murmured to himself, as he 
went to the telephone for a carriage. “And how 
they can comfort each other !” 


CHAPTER XXVII 
Mr. Hittaker Calls on the Judge 

A few weeks later on a lovely spring day Titus, 
hammer in hand, stood prying open a box that had 
just come for him by express. 

While he was energetically pulling out nails 
and removing strips of wood Brick came loung- 
ing up the steps holding a mayflower between his 
teeth. 

“Mass’ Titus, Jennie she say an ole genTman 
jus’ come from New York want to see de Jedge.” 

“ ‘Jedge’ has gone driving,” said Titus, briefly. 

“Well, but dat ole gen’l’man won’t take no for 
yes. He says he mus’ see some one.” 

“Bring him out here,- then.” 

Brick hesitated. He had some idea of propriety, 
and he did not like to think of “young Mass’ Titus” 
receiving company in the pigeon loft. 

Titus understood him. “Do you suppose I’d leave 
the pigeons ?” he said, indignantly. “They’ve had a 
hot, tiresome journey. I’ve got to feed and water 
them. Bring the old gentleman out here if he can’t 
wait. If he can, I’ll go in the house later.” 

Brick disappeared, and presently returned, fol- 
lowed by a thin, slight, elderly man who carried 
his hands in his pockets. 

“Sorry to bring you out here, sir,” said Titus, 
politely, “but these birds are suffering and I can’t 


Mr. Hittaker Calls on the Judge 325 

leave them. Will you sit down?” and he nodded 
toward a stool. 

The gentleman remained standing, and with a 
pair of remarkably small eyes listlessly surveyed 
the roomy, bright pigeon loft, the birds at the open 
windows, and the wiry, athletic young figure of 
Titus himself. 

There was a weary sneer on his face. Titus saw 
it, but unconcernedly went on with his work. 

“What is the good of all these?” said the stran- 
ger at last, and he withdrew one of his hands from 
his pocket and waved it at the birds. 

“O, I like to hear them laugh and talk and fight, 
just the way we do,” said Titus, calmly. 

“Laugh and talk,” repeated the elderly man, and 
he straightened himself and looked like one trying 
to force himself to take an interest in some- 
thing. 

“Yes, sir, they have their language just as we 
have ours. Look at that young one there. He is 
crying because his stepfather is beating him. Here, 
stepfather, come away.” 

The man’s head sank on his breast. He seemed 
to be thinking deeply, but Titus shrewdly guessed 
that his mind was not on the relations of birds to 
each other. 

“Looks as if he’d had some trouble,” thought the 
boy to himself, then he said aloud, “Come in here, 
pigeons,” and he gently guided the two prisoners 
he had released from their traveling box into a large 
cage. 

“I always put strangers in this cage for a few 
days,” he remarked, in a cheerful, explanatory way, 


Princess Sukey 


326 

“so they can look about them. Pigeons hate to be 
rushed into a crowd.” 

The stranger roused himself and gazed at the 
newcomers. “What kind of pigeons do you call 
them?” he asked, in languid curiosity. 

“Pouters,” replied Titus. 

“They look as if they had their stomachs under 
their chins,” said the elderly man, with slight ani- 
mation. “Ugly things !” 

“They’re New Yorkers,” said Titus, slyly. Then 
he added, “I don’t think they’re beautiful myself, 
but I wanted to have them. Here, pigeons, have 
some canary seed,” and he put a dish in beside them. 

“Where is your grandfather?” asked the stranger, 
abruptly. “That is, if you are Judge Sancroft’s 
grandson. I think some one said you were.” 

“Yes, sir, I am. My grandfather is driving with 
my adopted sister Bethany.” 

“Adopted sister,” said his companion, thought- 
fully. “Is that the Hittaker child ?” 

“Yes, sir — Hittaker-Smith. My grandfather had 
some kind of papers made out. We’re going to hold 
on to little Bethany.” 

A heavy shadow passed over the man’s face, and 
Titus thought he heard him sigh. “I heard about 
her,” he said, dreamily. “They said kidnapers tried 
to steal her.” 

A sudden thought flashed into Titus’s mind. 
“You’re not Mr. Hittaker, are you, sir?” he asked, 
sharply, and he stared in boyish curiosity at his 
visitor. 

The man nodded slightly. “Yes, yes, my name 
is Hittaker.” 


Mr. Hittaker Calls on the Judge 327 

Titus looked deeply sympathetic, and his eye ran 
over his caller's black clothes. “I say, sir," he mur- 
mured, sympathetically, “we were awfully sorry for 
you. Bethany cried when she heard about the little 
children being drowned." 

At this statement Titus lost the attention of his 
companion. Mr. Hittaker’s face became more 
dreamy. His mind was wandering away into re- 
gions where the boy could not follow it. He thought 
Mr. Hittaker looked ill. He certainly was in a 
peculiar state mentally. Minute after minute he 
stood silently, his eyes fixed on vacancy. 

Titus leaned against the wall and watched him. 
Finally, just as his young limbs began to ache from 
inaction, Mr. Hittaker roused himself, turned to 
him, and said, abruptly, “We were speaking of your 
grandfather. When will he come home?" 

“Probably not till near dinner time. It is such a 
fine day.” 

“I planned to take the seven o’clock train back to 
New York," said Mr. Hittaker, slowly, “but it 
doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter." 

“Stay all night, sir," said Titus, hospitably. 
“Then you will have time to talk to my grand- 
father. But," he went on, slowly, “I hope you are 
not to ask him for Bethany. It wouldn’t be any 
use. We can’t give her up." 

Mr. Hittaker stared moodily at him and made no 
reply. 

“My grandfather doesn’t think an awful sight of 
money," said the boy, proudly. 

“Money," repeated his caller, and a gleam illum- 
inated his small eyes and sharp, shrewd face. “Show 


328 Princess Sukey 

me the man that doesn’t care for it, or the woman, 
either.” 

“Grandfather does care for it, in a way,” Titus 
went on, earnestly. “He thinks you can do a lot 
of good and be a great power in the world if you 
have plenty of money, but he preaches to us all the 
time about not thinking too much of riches.” 

“Easy to talk,” replied Mr. Hittaker, with some 
show of interest in the subject. “If you were that 
black stable boy you couldn’t have all this,” and he 
looked about the well appointed loft. 

“Sir,” said Titus, intensely, “the other evening 
I was walking with grandfather. We passed a tiny 
house in the suburbs. A boy was nailing away at a 
box and whistling like a good fellow. We stopped 
and spoke to him. He was making a house for his 
rabbits out of two big soap boxes — and, by the way, 
they were Hittaker soap boxes; I saw the name. 
When we left him my grandfather said, ‘Do you 
suppose you are any happier than that boy ?’ 

“ ‘No, sir,’ I said, ‘I don’t.’ 

“Then my grandfather went on : ‘Don’t run away 
with the idea that no happiness can exist in cottages. 
The contented mind makes its own dwelling.’ ” 

Mr. Hittaker gazed in an uninterested way at a 
box of sawdust. He was too old, and too self-cen- 
tered, and too absent-minded, to be moved by Titus’s 
eloquence; and then, when he had been a boy, he 
had had no wise grandfather to train his youthful 
mind. A grasping, miserly father had made a 
grasping, miserly son. 

Titus broke off with a slight shrug of his shoul- 
ders. He was half pitiful, half inimical to his vis- 


Mr. Hittaker Calls on the Judge 329 

itor. “Come into the house, sir,” he said, hospitably. 
“I can leave these birds now. Perhaps the time 
won’t seem so long if you are looking at grand- 
father’s books.” 

Mr. Hittaker did not care for reading. The most 
interesting books to him were account books. How- 
ever, he followed Titus willingly enough. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 
The Judge Reviews His Family 

Weeks and months flew by. Spring passed, sum- 
mer came and went, autumn followed, then winter 
and Christmas and the Christmas holidays. 

It was just one year since the Judge and Titus 
had found Bethany trotting along Broadway. It 
was considerably over a year since the adoption of 
the pigeon princess into the family, and she was now 
a fully matured bird. 

She sat in her basket by the fireside. Higby had 
just been in and carefully arranged the wire screen, 
so that no sparks from the wood fire should fly out 
on her. 

Sukey was listening for the Judge’s footstep. 
Dinner was over some time ago. He ought to be 
coming to his study. 

The Judge, after dinner, had put on his cap and 
had gone out to the stable. He wished to review 
his family, to see that they were all happy and 
comfortable. 

To his great satisfaction, he found Roblee and 
Brick together. The old coachman had brought 
the boy into his room. He was teaching him to 
read. Outside it was cold and dreary. A wild wind 
was blowing, and the air was full of gathering snow- 
flakes. Inside Roblee’s apartment it was snug and 
comfortable. At a little table drawn up under the 
electric light sat Roblee, his feet on a coil of hot- 


The Judge Reviews His Family 331 

water pipes, his mouth open nearly all the time to 
correct Brick’s innumerable mistakes as he strug- 
gled through the chapters of Oliver Twist. 

The Judge stood at the door watching them. “Do 
you like that book, Brick ?” he said, suddenly. 

The two inmates of the room turned round, then, 
seeing who it was, rose respectfully. 

“Sit down,” said the Judge, and coming into the 
room he took a chair himself and for a few minutes 
talked kindly to them. 

Roblee was certainly much bothered with Brick, 
but he was certainly much benefited by having some 
young life under the roof with him. 

After the Judge left his room he turned into the 
pigeon loft. The sleepy, contented birds gave him 
bright glances. 

“You are out of the coming storm,” he mur- 
mured to himself, as he went downstairs to look at 
the horses and the cow. When he emerged from 
the stable, and the biting wind struck his face, he 
looked up at the big, brightly lighted house. Up 
under those dark eaves he knew a few street pigeons 
were nestling. 

“Their footing is precarious,” he said. “I will 
have a carpenter come and make a better shelter for 
them. I cannot bear to think that anything under my 
care should suffer this cold weather. Is that you, 
Bylow ?” he went on, as something touched his knee. 

“Good dog,” and he stooped down and patted the 
now respectable member of society. “Go into the 
stable. It is too cold for a short-haired dog to be 
outside,” and he opened the door for him. 

As he turned something passed his face. He 


332 


Princess Sukey 


heard nothing, but he knew that one of the owls had 
flown by on its noiseless wings. 

“ ’Frisco and ’Mento,” he said, with a smile,” 
“having your night’s spin? Well, there is a com- 
fortable box for you above when you get through 
wandering, and you know it. Strange,” he mur- 
mured, as he continued his way to the house, “how 
the whole creation not only groans together, but 
rejoices together, and is linked together. I used 
not to think of the dumb creatures; but it is easy 
to go down, even to the owls, when one begins to 
care for the children. Ah ! that is a pretty sight !” 
and he stopped short and looked in the window. 

The curtains were not drawn. Down in the little 
dining room for the servants Martha the cook and 
Jennie, Betty, and old Higby were seated about a 
blazing fire. Martha was rubbing some kind of 
ointment on her hands, Jennie and Betty were sew- 
ing, and Mrs. Blodgett, enthroned in a big rocking- 
chair at the head of the table, was reading to them 
— reading somewhat pompously and condescend- 
ingly, but also in a most satisfactory manner, judging 
from the frequent smiles of her auditors. Higby, 
indeed, sometimes transgressed by laughing too 
irrepressibly, upon which occasions Mrs. Blodgett 
interrupted her reading, took off her glasses, and 
solemnly scolded him. 

The Judge came softly into the house, so that he 
would not disturb them, and passed quietly upstairs. 

Ah ! here was the best picture of all, and he paused 
at the parlor door. 

Mrs. Nancy Steele had arrived; the Judge had en- 
gaged her to become lady housekeeper, mother-in- 


The Judge Reviews His Family 333 

general, adviser-in-chief, and whatever was needed 
to make a perfect superintendent for his family. 

She was succeeding admirably, and the Judge 
gazed in intense admiration at the slender, graceful 
figure at the piano. Mrs. Nancy was charming, very 
ladylike, and very forceful, under a quiet, almost a 
languid exterior. 

The children were charmed with her. Bethany 
stood close to her, begging her to sing again. Airy 
sat near by, quiet and watchful, her eyes glued to 
Mrs. Nancy’s face. The Judge knew that both 
little girls adored her, and he was delighted, for he 
had given them the young widow as a model. 

Airy was spending a part of her Christmas holi- 
days at no Grand Avenue — the larger part, the 
Judge shrewdly guessed it would be. 

Mrs. Steele spoke with a slight, a very slight 
drawl, and to the Judge’s amusement Airy had 
already acquired this, though she had only been in 
the house a few days with her. She also had put 
on a black dress, because she so much admired the 
young widow’s trailing, somber garments. 

Dallas and Titus were playing some game at a 
little table and occasionally glancing up at the group 
by the piano. 

Their faces were all happy. “Peace and good 
will,” murmured the Judge. “How I wish my dear 
wife could look in on this sight. It reminds me of 
the happy times we had when we first came to this 
house. For many years this room has been deso- 
late. Now it is again sanctified by the presence of 
a good woman and promising children. Now if 
they will only turn out well ! God grant it, and give 


'Princess Sukey 


334 

me grace so to train them that they may be shining 
lights in this troublous world !” and casting a fare- 
well glance at the occupants of the handsome room 
the Judge went on his way to his study. 

Sukey was overjoyed to see him. She strutted 
toward the doorway, spreading her tail and cooing 
with pleasure. 

“The only thing I have left,” said the Judge, 
cheerfully; “that is, the only thing under my special 
jurisdiction. Mrs. Steele has relieved me of a great 
weight of care.” 

Now he could spend the evening after his own 
fashion, safe from any interruption from Bethany, 
or Airy, or the boys, he reflected, with a deep sigh 
of satisfaction. 

But could he ? He had scarcely opened his book 
when they were all hurrying in upon him — the ele- 
gant Mrs. Nancy drawn on by impetuous Bethany, 
and Titus, Dallas, and Airy bringing up the rear. 

“Grandfather,” said Titus, imperiously; “Dear 
Daddy Grandpa,” exclaimed Bethany ; “Mr. Judge,” 
said Airy, solemnly; and “Dear Judge,” said the 
young widow, smilingly, “the children absolutely 
refuse to play a new guessing game I want to teach 
them unless you are in it.” 

The Judge took off his spectacles and blandly 
surveyed the young faces about him. “Will it take 
long?” 

“O, no, sir,” said Dallas, eagerly, “I half know it 
now. We can easily stop at Bethany’s bedtime.” 

“Mrs. Steele says I may sit up half an hour later 
than usual, you naughty Dallas,” interposed Beth- 
any, resentfully. 


The Judge Reviews His Family 335 

The Judge smiled. Bethany occasionally showed 
a little bit of temper. Well, she had been rather 
spoiled lately, and he was afraid that some foolish 
people had been talking to her about her rich grand- 
father. 

He had had rather a trying interview with Mr. 
Hittaker. In the first place, being two men so abso- 
lutely unlike, they had found no common ground on 
which to stand. Then Mr. Hittaker had been pain- 
fully absent-minded. It had been almost impossible 
to induce him to concentrate his attention on the 
subject of Bethany, though it was for the purpose 
of talking about her that he had come to see the 
Judge. 

He evidently was not much interested in her. All 
the mind and heart that he had seemed to have been 
buried with his dead daughter and her children. 
However, before leaving, he gave the Judge to un- 
derstand that he regarded Bethany as the only 
remaining member of his family besides himself, 
and in the event of his death she would receive what 
property he had to leave. 

He had at one time in their interview expressed 
a desire that Bethany should come to New York to 
live with him. 

This desire the Judge kindly but promptly told 
him could not be gratified. Inwardly he added a 
resolve that not for all the wealth of the Union 
would he deliver Bethany up to the training of so 
self-centered a man. 

Mr. Hittaker did not seem to feel disappointed. 
Indeed, so strange a state of mind had he been in 
that he had not even asked to see the child. It was 


33 6 Princess Sukey 

the Judge who suggested having her come in the 
room. 

He had expressed a little curiosity, though, on 
the subject of her kidnapers, and had shown some 
satisfaction after hearing that Smalley and the two 
women were serving long terms of imprisonment. 
The Judge told him that everything was being done 
to influence them for good. 

‘‘Daddy Grandpa !” said Bethany, stroking his 
hand. 

The Judge called back his wandering thoughts. 
While he had been busy with his reminiscences Mrs. 
Steele and the children were waiting. “Certainly, 
certainly, my dears,” he said, “I will play your 
game with you. Shall we go downstairs ?” 

Airy was for returning to the parlor. She liked 
pomp and ceremony. “No, no,” said Bethany, when 
the Tingsby girl remarked in a stilted voice, “The 
parlor is more agreeable.” 

“No, no,” the child went on, “here in the study 
with Daddy Grandpa and Sukey. It is more cozy.” 

They all seated themselves about the fire, and Mrs. 
Steele began the guessing game. 

Princess Sukey, in her basket, lifted her hooded 
head and with a wise look surveyed her circle of 
friends. Her greenish-yellow eyes rested longest 
on the beloved white head. There was the leader 
of the family and her chief friend, and his benev- 
olent eyes, taking in the happy faces of the group 
about him, did not forget to rest occasionally on the 
little creature who loved him, though she was only 
a bird. 


The End. 









MAY S3 8905 




